


Run

by lachlanrose



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Wolverine (2013)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Feral!Logan, Logan returns from Japan, Pathos, Rogan, adult, shipper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:59:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 46
Words: 152,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachlanrose/pseuds/lachlanrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan's claws were in her chest. His life force filled her body. His thoughts echoed in her head, shouting one thing over and over. <i>Run.</i> She does... and it takes him a decade to catch her again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Rogue

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Still not mine, despite a valiant effort using my Jedi mind tricks. Dammit.
> 
> **Feedback:** Yes, please! The good. The bad. The ugly, welcome…
> 
> **Author's notes:** This is my response to the 2013 Wolverine movie. It's very much a 'Logan comes back from Japan' story. It's about letting go and reconnecting. The pain of betrayal. The agony of hope. The fear of letting someone back in again. You could also consider this a realistic look at how the feisty, unsure Marie we saw in X1-X3 becomes the kickass Rogue we know from the comics... and how she and Logan learn to walk a good road.
> 
> I've always wondered exactly what happened to Marie between the time she ran out of Logan's room and the time she turned up on the bench talking to 'Bobby'. I let that percolate and a baby bunny was born. Then I wondered what Charles would have to say about it… and the bunny gained a sibling. By the time I started wondering if Marie had ever told Logan about those hours, I had a full-on bunny infestation, which has (yet again) gone somewhere damn unexpected. Japan? Tibet?! For those who want to know up front, this one's gonna be a long, bumpy ride. Cursing, sex, pathos, blood, drama, Feral!Logan, the works. Knock me down. Pick me up. Hit me again. It's one of those slow burn/flashover/everything goes up in flames kinda stories. Brace yourself.
> 
> A special thanks to the amazing doctorg for the awesome beta! She deserves an award for being exposed to my fic in its raw form. Much love and thanks to Terri for all the insightful feedback that really pushed this story the last mile and for letting me borrow her Hank muse! (He smells like Twinkies!). I also need to give a shout out to Boake for the lines and to Adele, Metallica, and McLachlan for the lyrics and the songs that inspired this story. And lastly, Skinny Dick's is indeed an actual bar. This one is less a grab-your-popcorn-and-sit-back kinda story and more of a pour-yourself-an-adult-bevvie-'cause-you're-gonna- need-it kinda story. Cheers! **This one is seriously mature. You have been warned.**

{Run.}

His voice thundered in my head, desperate and wild.

People were coming. Filling the room. Staring at us. Staring at my hand on Logan's face.

I stared back into their shocked, expectant faces.

"It was an accident." Not my words. His. Spilling from my mouth. He was so sorry he'd hurt me. But under that, a stronger urge.

{Run!}

And so I did.

The knot of kids in the hall parted before me. I don't blame them. I'm death. The words 'Like a hot knife through butter' flashed through my brain. A voice in my head added, 'Like claws through flesh'.

I ran faster.

It's weird what you remember. With all that going on, all I could think was that Logan was gonna be pissed that Scott had been in his bed, even if it was only to grab a pillow.

It was too much. Too much inside. Too much outside. If the body was a vessel, mine was filled to overflowing. I'd never been so full of another person. None of the others had ever rushed in with such force, such power. There was just so _much_ of him. He was so wild, like a force of nature. Unstoppable. I couldn't hold him back any more than someone could dam up the ocean. All I knew was that it was more than I could handle. I couldn't be still. I had to move. To run. In that, we were in perfect agreement.

Every nerve ending was alive. My lungs burned as they healed and reinflated. Each breath was excruciating. The stench was horrific. The metallic scent of my blood. The acrid scent of his fear over the sour notes of his nightmare. The terror of the others and a crowd of hormonal teens who needed more showers and less perfume.

{I'll be fine. Run!}

It didn't even feel like I was really leaving Logan there, convulsing on the floor. He was still with me as I ran; a strong solid presence in my mind. Still, I hesitated.

_But-_

{Just go. Now. Get the fuck outta there, kid.}

I stopped in the hall, uncertain. He'd never leave me like that. Never. I knew he wouldn't. I wanted to go back but he was adamant. I didn't know if it was because he was trying to protect me, or because he didn't want me to see him like that, or both. I couldn't go back to my room, couldn't face Jubilee and Kitty. I didn't want to see the fear on their faces and subject myself to their inevitable barrage of questions. What was I supposed to do, lie down and pull that yellow sheet back up over me and go to sleep like I hadn't just nearly killed a man? I couldn't stand the horrible, claustrophobic feeling of being trapped. The walls. The people. The fear and mistrust.

The shame.

{Oh, fuck. Jesus. I stabbed you!}

 _Our_ shame.

_Oh, God. I touched you. I hurt you._

{It's fine. I heal. S'nothin'.}

_It's not nothing!_

{You okay, kid?}

_No._

{Shit. I'm so sorry.}

_Don't be. I told you when I touch people, they get hurt._

{Back atcha.}

Laughter that was much too close to a sob bubbled from my lips. Nobody paid me even the slightest bit of attention as I slipped silently away. I'd never been so quiet. Never moved with such stealth. It had to be him. Everyone was too busy staring at Logan's body. Isn't that always the way of it? The attention is always on the victim while the guilty get away.

{It ain't like that.}

_It is. It's exactly like that._

{You're the victim here, Marie.}

_It's not me convulsing on the floor, sugar._

{Thank Christ.}

_My head hurts. Why does my head hurt? It's never been like this..._

The lights were too bright and the smell was overpowering. A deep repetitive thrumming sound from a lower level was making my eardrums vibrate unpleasantly. There was a real chance I was going to throw up in the hall. A wave of nausea welled up, and I wrapped my arms around my middle and leaned against the wall until it passed.

{S'me. I got feral senses on toppa strength 'n healin'.}

He did? I suppose some subconscious part of me had been aware of that since we touched. Enhanced senses. No wonder my head hurt. All I'd known about before I touched him was the healing.

Well, that and the claws.

I put my hand up, studying it. No sign of claws, but my forearms hurt and my knuckles itched.

{Don't think about that part now. And the rest — it takes a while to learn how to tune it out. Get outside if you can. It helps.}

The girl in me wanted to burst out the front doors and sprint for freedom. It was deeply disturbing when I almost wrenched the door handle off before slipping silently into the darkness. I didn't feel the cold. The grass was soft and lush under my bare feet. The night was as overwhelming as the inside world had been, but gentler. More familiar. The creak of the wind through the trees. The soft drone of insects. The hum of cars on a distant road. The sharp scents of the evening came to me, wild and strong. It was strangely soothing. I felt myself settle a little. I felt him settle, too.

For a long time we stood in the shadows, breathing the moonlight.

I saw it through new eyes, a silvery luminescence, shining on each leaf, each blade of grass, each stone and branch. It was beautiful.

{It is. I like the night. S'peaceful.}

His words were soft in my mind; somehow both part of — and at odds with — the chaos swirling between my ears.

{Let's just stay here a while, kid. You and me.}

I laughed, because really — where's he gonna go?

This rusty chuckle echoed in my head. It made me smile. When was the last time he laughed?

{Don't remember. Feels good, though.}

_How are you doing that?_

{Talkin' to ya? Fuck if I know. S'your head.} The touch of impatient exasperation in his voice amused me.

_No that. You're holding it back somehow._

He was. I could feel the pressure, the sheer weight of what my skin had pulled along with his gifts; a library of feelings and memories behind some kind of massive seawall, but he was somehow keeping it from drowning me.

{I dunno. I just don't wanna hurt ya again. I'm concentratin' on that real hard.}

None of the others had ever done that. I'd built walls and boxes to contain them but none of them had built one for me from the inside. That was different. And unexpected.

_Thank you._

{Don't. I can feel it slippin'. It's got lotsa cracks and more every minute. Little things bleedin' through. Won't be long now.}

I could feel it too. When it came, it would be like trying to drink from a fire hose. He seemed to find that analogy darkly amusing, though I could feel an undercurrent of sad resignation.

{Hope you're thirsty.}

Well, that wasn't too far from the mark. I could use a drink. I was suddenly aware that I really, really wanted one. Whiskey, smooth and smoky and right from the bottle. It was strange to crave a thing I'd never had, to know the taste and the familiar burn even though a drop had never passed my lips. I'd had beer, sure. Even a few sips of mama's mint julep on race day, but my go-to comfort drink was hot cocoa with whipped cream. The idea suddenly seemed ludicrous in the face of what was coming. However delicious chocolate might be, it wasn't exactly bracing.

Bits and pieces were starting to filter through. Logan did his best to hold back the flow but it was terrifying. There was just so much. The wall came tumbling down and he held me while the waves of him broke around me. He kept my head above water, but only just.

I threw up in the grass, hating my weakness. Hating that he saw it. Hating the guilt I could feel rolling in him as I wiped my mouth and moved deeper into the trees, wrapping my arms around a big trunk. The bark was gritty and rough against my cheek, scratching me as I held tighter still to keep the world from spinning away.

_/icy water closing over him while his tattooed body shook with terror/liquid metal streaming under his skin/the thrill of the hunt in the cold autumn air/the soft skin of a woman under him, sweaty and flushed/the sharp, concussive blows slamming him against the wire mesh of some cage/masturbating in his camper, his breath making silvery puffs in the freezing air as he twisted and writhed under his own hand/blood dripping from his claws after a kill/quiet joy in the flickering glow of the northern lights on his face/bricks rough under his palm while he pumped into a faceless woman from behind and the scorching rush of orgasmic pleasure searing through him hot and strong/_

I gasped, but it only gained momentum.

_/the familiar sharp pain of six blades singing into being/a crude fantasy about her, his thoughts uncensored, her full lips on him right there in the cab of his truck, swallowing his pleasure, her hands soft on him afterwards, holding him close/the deep calm of a rich lungful of tobacco/Jean's red hair fanned out over his pillow and wrapped in his fist/frigid seawater around his legs that day in Normandy when they stormed the beach/sunrise over the mountains and a small cabin that felt like home/_

The flow came faster and faster until I sagged into the cool earth. That is the worst part about my mutation. Worse than the physical pain I cause is the intrusive nature of what my skin takes from them. Their most private self. Glimmers of their most intimate moments. Their pain and insecurity and the slivers of time so profound the world stops. Things you would never share with another person, not even with a lover. Some things are too raw to be conveyed in that way. Too intensely personal to cause anything but pain. Memories seeping from his veins, pouring into me. Filling me up with all the things I'd never have any other way. There was another ugly little truth.

_Logan?_

I wouldn't blame him for sinking into silence. The others had, angry at me for knowing them in that way. Once they realized... it was only a matter of time. Some simply fell silent. Some became abusive, angry and violent. David wasn't the only one. You think nobody had tried to touch me those eight months I was on the road? Hardly.

{Shh... S'alright, darlin'. I gotcha. Just breathe.}

 _You_ \- _you didn't leave me?_

{Nah.}

_What about...?_

{Ain't your fault. You can't help it and neither can I. Sure, it's shitty. Sucks for us both, but that's how it is in the real world, kid. Life's full of surprise lefts, cheap shots and fuckin' hard kicks to the balls. You just gotta get back up. Never let 'em see you on your knees.}

I didn't want to. I wanted to cry until I couldn't breathe anymore.

{Get up.}

I still didn't move. The soft loam felt good under my fingers and I suddenly found myself wishing I could sink my whole body into it, cover myself up and just let the world go on without me for a while.

That definitely freaked him out.

{Get that ass up. Now. Lick your wounds if you gotta, but you ain't the kind to let it best ya. Stand up, look it in the eye and tell it to fuck off.}

I got to my feet and felt him moving within me, supporting me.

"Fuck off," it was hardly a whisper.

{Hmph. Like you mean it.}

Something hot unspooled in me, wild and raw.

"FUCK OFF!"

It echoed in the clear night air, startling birds from a nearby stand of trees. My throat felt raw. A moment later it tingled and healed.

Fuck the world. I hated this shitty mutation with every fiber of my being. I hated myself just as much. Hated whatever I'd done to deserve this hell. Hated what it meant for the future. So much black rage and self-loathing. I think he was surprised by the intensity. He shouldn't be. It's there for him to see. Sure, I get them in my head, but they get me too. All of me. Every insecurity and fear and ugly piece of myself that I never wanted another person to ever see.

We're equals in that. Bound together in this terrible dance of humiliation and pain.

{Jesus. Are all teenage girls this dramatic?}

_You wanna talk about you, then? Fine. How about that night in that crappy hotel in Yellowknife when you opened up your arms and bled the ground red, full of so much hurt that the pain was an improvement?_

{Shut up!}

_Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm being shitty. It's not your fault. I shouldn't even know those things, much less acknowledge them. They're yours to tell._

I was instantly contrite. Absorbing someone makes me too unstable and apparently the more I took, the more unstable I became. I'd never taken in so much of someone before. I wanted to lash out because it's easier than introspection. Easier than seeing what they think of me.

{When I get like this, I run.}

I understood he meant the physical act of running, of giving over to the wildness inside of him, not running away.

_That's not all you do._

There were memories, strong swirling memories of fighting and drinking and women.

That rough chuckle was back in my head.

_What?_

{Thinkin' of you in the cage. Downin' a few belts. Kickin' a little ass. Pickin' some cage bunny outta the crowd for after.}

Laughter burst out of me, sharp and bright at the ridiculous image he'd painted.

_You forgot the cigar._

{So I did.}

I wanted one of those, too, along with the drink.

The laugher had crystallized something in my mind, spurring my body into action before I realized I was moving. I ran. Across the grounds, through the trees, leaping fallen logs and craggy ruts in the uneven ground. Weaving among the trunks, moving in a wide arc along the edge of the Professor's land and back around toward the school. I never even got tired. Never had to stop and catch my breath. My bare feet cut and healed. I barely noticed. The earth under them felt good. I welcomed the wildness. Embracing it seemed to help. There wasn't so much resistance when I stopped trying to force it into what I wanted it to do.

I stopped at the edge of the main quad. I was beginning to lose him. His mutation. My feet were healing more slowly now and I was beginning to feel tired; fatigue and a deep thirst. The stillness felt so good after the violent catharsis of motion.

I don't know how long we stood there.

It was Storm who finally found us. Her feet were as silent as mine had been on the grass. She smelled like rain and compassion. I was glad it was her and not Scott or Jean.

"Rogue?" I flinched as the sound vibrated against my skin and broke the perfect beauty of the night. "Are you okay, child?"

"Is Logan okay?" I said in answer.

"He's still unconscious, but Jean thinks he'll be fine. The Professor is with him."

I stared at the ground, ashamed and guilty.

{None of that now.}

"Are you okay?" she asked again, looking at me with compassion I didn't deserve.

"Yeah. I just needed some time to uh... let it settle. It was a lot." She looked at me with softness but not comprehension. Good.

"The Professor thinks it might be a good idea to let Dr. Grey have a look at you. He's worried. We all are."

I hadn't been a big fan of doctors before tonight and now with Logan in my head, I liked the idea of being examined even less.

{Hey, it's not so bad. Jeannie's… different.}

_You're only saying that because you want in her pants._

I felt him snort into my mind.

"Rogue?"

Oh. Right. Less talking to inside people. More talking to outside people. "Yeah, I guess that'd be okay."

I followed her, feeling more uncomfortable as the school loomed larger in front of us. I hesitated at the door, remembering the choking claustrophobia.

{S'fine. Breathe, kid. Thinka somethin' real good. Hold that in your head.}

The image of him standing on that snowy road with a cigar clamped between his teeth appeared in my mind.

I could feel his astonishment.

{Really?}

I shrugged.

_You make me feel safe._

Silence from him. I suppose I'd shocked him.

_What do you think of, Logan?_

My traitorous mind supplied the images before he could respond.

/northern lights over a fresh snowfall/his cheek resting on a woman's breast and her hands soft on his back/a small cabin where he felt safe and warm/her own expressive face asking him if it hurt when the claws came out/

Me? That my image had been tacked onto the end of that sequence rocked me back. I had the sense he was just as bewildered.

"Honey, it's okay..."

Right. Storm. She was staring at me as I stood rooted in the doorway. Great. Just wonderful.

"Don't worry. It's just a little mud. We'll get you cleaned up. Dr. Grey can check you over and then I bet you could go for a hot shower and something chocolate."

I looked down at myself, suddenly aware of my appearance. My hair was a wild tangle, full of leaves and twigs. My nightgown was torn and dirty. My feet were bare and caked with blood and dirt. I looked like a wild thing. From somewhere inside me, I felt male approval, warm and strong. The intensity surprised us both.

"Sorry," I said lamely. "The shower and the chocolate sound good." Not the lab though. Jean's nice and all, but I really didn't want to do that. I'd already had my intake exam, so they sort of knew what they were dealing with... but I just didn't want to go there tonight in any sense of the word. Unfortunately, I kind of knew they weren't going to just let it go. I had been stabbed in the chest. It should have scared me more. I don't know why it didn't, except it was twined thickly with fear for Logan.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. You're not the first student I've coaxed back in following an eventful evening. We're all still learning control. Things like this happen from time to time."

I could tell she was genuine.

"When I was your age, I got excited during a football game at Thanksgiving and called the sky. Lightning fried the east wing and knocked out the power during the third quarter. I was a pariah for weeks! Nobody cared I'd slipped with my powers, but there had been a pool on the game..."

A giggle bubbled up in me despite my reserve. I couldn't help but be charmed by her story.

"Jean sneezed once in the library and her TK yanked every single book off the shelves."

That impressed me. I'd seen the library. It was huge. Logan's interest in a young, untried Jean tempered my amusement, however. And to be fair, it wasn't really like she'd hurt anything or anyone. It was just a cute anecdote, which I found more annoying than helpful.

"Scott cut a bronze statue in half when he was nineteen. We were all drunk as lords right here on this very quad. I still have the scar from where the molten metal splattered on my leg." Her smile changed. "I probably shouldn't have told you that."

I mimed zipping my mouth and throwing away the key.

Scott drunk and defacing school property? I'd have paid good money to see that. It's always the quiet ones, isn't it? A growl echoed in my head. Apparently my inner Logan didn't care too much for that assessment. I didn't much care. I wasn't feeling too charitable now that'd I'd realized every mention of Jean was followed by a pang of something hot from Logan that I didn't want to examine too closely.

"Thanks." I followed her through the rabbit warren of passages. The sterile, medicinal smell was getting stronger. "You're pretty good at this."

"I've had a lot of practice."

What was she, the Mutant Whisperer?

"So what do you usually do?"

"The idea of a hot shower and food usually does the trick. Chocolate for the girls. The boys usually want something greasy. It's hard to go wrong with big plate of bacon and eggs."

I was suddenly aware of how wildly hungry I was. My stomach growled.

{S'the healin'. Burns up energy real fast. You gotta eat or you're gonna get sick.}

"That sounds good." I blushed. "Could I maybe have the bacon and eggs too? I'm starving."

"Sure you can, honey. I like a girl who knows her mind." I barely managed to keep from rolling my eyes. She had _no_ idea. My mind wasn't mine at all. "You remember the way to the kitchen?"

I didn't but Logan's sense of direction was infallible. "Yeah."

"Meet me there when you're finished." She stopped at the door to the lab. "It shouldn't take long at all. I'll go get started. I could use a cup of hot chocolate myself."

Jean appeared in the doorway, a white lab coat thrown on over her pajamas; a light periwinkle robe belted over something lavender that was silky and edged in lace.

And that was Logan's attention grabbed.

I felt a stirring in my own blood. She smelled so good. So much better than the lab, warm and soft.

I wanted to sink into the floor.

This was a very bad idea.

And despite myself, I let her lead us inside...

* * *

 


	2. The Doctor

"Come on in, Rogue."

I followed her, my eyes on the gentle sway of her hips. Something about her smelled so good. The faint scent was tickling a place deep in my brain. What the hell was _that_?

{Arousal.}

_What?! Ugh._

I couldn't imagine her stopping off for a quickie with Scott with everything else that was happening tonight.

Logan's smug chuckle annoyed me. {Nah. It ain't like that. Scent's too weak. Just a trace. She just came down from givin' me a full exam. Touchin' me all over and tuckin' me back into bed… That's where I'd put my money.}

_Gross._

He was remarkably sanguine about it. {Touchin' me gets her hot. It's not the first time, either. Smelled it on her when I first woke up in the lab, too. It's just a physical response. She can't control it any more than you can, kid.} That he seemed to accept female interest as a matter of course spoke to how often it came his way.

I was stunned speechless.

{You can't hide in here anymore than I can. I smelled it on ya at the bar in Laughlin after you watched me fight and I caught it again tonight. Just why was it you were in my room?}

_You were having a nightmare! Jeez, Logan._

{And just what were you imaginin' was gonna happen after you woke me up?} I could feel a little tickle of male amusement there, but something else under it made me really think about my answer.

_Nothing! To be honest, I hadn't even really thought past waking you up. You saved me. We're friends. I like you._

Something warm spread out from him.

{Nobody likes me. Lotsa women want me, but none of 'em like me.}

_I do._

{You're a weird kid, you know?}

Did it escape his notice I was having a conversation with him in my mind? Hello?!

_Yeah, and you're just an average claw guy._

He laughed into my head; this time it was rich and warm.

_I just wanted to help you stop hurting. It wasn't anything more than that, I swear. I just didn't expect… you were_ —

This time he pulled the images from my head. {Moanin' and sweaty with my shirt off?}

I could feel my face flame.

_Yeah. I_ — _I had a pretty active fantasy life before I manifested… and after…_

If he looked hard enough, he'd find it, I was sure. He probably wouldn't even have to look all that hard. I've always been sorta passionate, even if it was just in my own head. Just fantasy. I'd never been that close to a grown man I was attracted to, though, especially not one shirtless in bed. I guess my reaction surprised us both.

{That the first time bein' near a man made your blood run hot, darlin'?}

It was and he knew it. Ah, God.

{You don't gotta be ashamed, kid. It's real nice. Sweet. Flatterin'. I'm real sorry it ended the way it did, but you know I wouldn't have—}

_I know. You're safe, remember? A good guy. I know you wouldn't have_ —

I could tell I'd shocked him deeply.

{I ain't a good guy. Not even a little.}

_You are with me._

He fell silent as I followed Jean deeper into the lab, past the glass cabinets of supplies and the scanners and equipment that frankly scared the crap out of me.

My eyes darted away from Jean's hips before she noticed, but I was aware of it and it was enough to make my steps slow noticeably.

"There's no need to feel shy, sweetie. We've all been there."

Oh, really? How many of them had nearly killed a man and had him lodged in their heads, after? I knew she was trying to put me at ease. I could even tell she genuinely meant what she said. It just wasn't working. To be honest, I'd felt this way even before I'd had Logan in my head. She was very nice, helpful to a fault, and really went out of her way to try to make me feel comfortable. All of which made me feel like even more of a bitch for not liking her. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something about her that just didn't ring true. Something under the surface that I couldn't see but that gave me the heebie jeebies all the same.

"Somehow I doubt that, Jean."

She looked at me sharply. What? She didn't like me calling her on it or she didn't like me calling her Jean? Sorry about that, sweetheart. That was Logan's idea, not mine.

"Dr. Grey, please, Rogue."

Even her rebuke was soft and delivered with a warm smile as she tucked her hair behind her ear. It was sleep-tousled and a little wild. Logan approved. My hands went to my own tangled hair. It didn't give him the same warm feelings.

"Sure. Sorry. I'm a little shaken up still. There's a lot of Logan still left in me, I guess. Sorry."

She was looking at me a little more curiously now. Crap. A drawer opened behind her and Jean turned, pulling a pair of blue latex gloves from a box. "Don't worry, Rogue. I'll be careful. The last thing you need is my gifts on top of his."

To be fair, she actually sounded like she was more worried about hurting me than she was about me hurting her. That was something, I guess, especially after she'd just had a live demonstration.

Logan was suddenly interested. I felt a hot spike of something best left unnamed as he wondered what it might be like to have a mental version of Jean in my head all to himself.

Asshole.

_No. Fucking. Way. You can forget that right now, cowboy._

He tried to keep it from me, but I could feel his excitement at the idea of a Jean he wouldn't have to share with Scott. One who was free to do whatever she wanted with him. It was a selfish, fleeting thought. He'd never do anything to hurt me, but the idea appealed to him all the same. I suppose we all have our little fantasies. He wasn't trying to be cruel. We were both still adjusting to sharing the same headspace.

I dropped into a nearby chair because the cold steel of the exam table was making my skin crawl. The walls were beginning to close in again and the sharp, medicinal smell was making my stomach churn.

{Just breathe, kid. Breathe and thinka somethin' good.}

I imagined walking right up to him on that snowy road and kicking him in the balls as hard as I could.

I almost fell out of the chair as his sharp bark of laughter rang in my head.

{Jesus. Bloodthirsty little thing, aintcha?}

_I am._

He approved. Liked it, even. I was surprised.

Jean was busy pulling the necessary items from a nearby cabinet. A stethoscope. A penlight. A gown. My file, too. I wondered what it said.

"Can— can I please have some water?"

"Of course." Without stopping what she was doing, Jean floated over one of those little paper cups that holds maybe two swallows. I felt like an idiot, filling it up a dozen times at the sink before my thirst was manageable. The water tasted good, clean and pure but it only made me feel hungrier. My stomach growled as I sat back down, nervous as hell and on the edge of bolting.

She didn't have to be a mind reader to see that. I wasn't too worried though. The Professor couldn't even really read my mind. He said my mutation was unique, in that my brain seemed to automatically switch frequencies too quickly for him to identify and connect with one before it was gone. He said it was sort of like if every page out of every book in a library was ripped up, pasted back together in pieces and out of order, and put back together in one massive volume. You could open it to any page, but all you'd get was a few lines from one story before it randomly switched to something else.

To have the world's most powerful telepath tell you that your brain was pretty much the weirdest one he'd ever come across was pretty sobering. He didn't say it in so many words, but I could tell that I was a frustration, an enigma, and a challenge to him all at once. I don't think he knew what to make of me. I don't think I knew what to make of him, either. Thankfully he didn't give me the same vibe Jean did. She'd tried to read my mind in the lab during my first exam. It had made her dizzy and given her a nosebleed. I am ashamed to say I kind of enjoyed that more than I probably should have. The memory made me feel like running even more.

"We don't have to do the exam right away, Rogue." She sat on a stool and wheeled closer. "Maybe we could just have a little chat about how you're feeling." Um, no.

"Crappy."

"Physically or…?"

Hmm... How did I feel? Physically, I actually felt pretty good. No, great. God, I really, really did. I was a little tired and hungry, but I didn't have any aches or pains. Even the pinch in my neck I'd felt after Logan's camper had wrecked was gone. I felt strong. Powerful. There was a wildness thrumming just under my skin that made me feel like I could do anything. Anything I wanted. Man. Did Logan feel this way all the time?

{Pretty much.}

_Well, thank you, Captain Obvious._

"Um, I feel fine, you know, physically." My inarticulate rambling was the antithesis of her calm, cultured words, so carefully measured to put me at ease. Instead, I was dorky and awkward and everything she wasn't. Even with a decade on me, I'd still never have her poise. I'd still be in my twenties though and she'd be in her forties. That's something, right? I sighed. She was probably the kind of woman who'd still look amazing at sixty.

"What about emotionally?"

"I'd rather talk about Logan, if that's okay."

Her lips thinned slightly. "I'm afraid I can't give you any details about his condition any more than I could share yours with someone else." She seemed to realize I was about at the end of my rope. "I can tell you he's resting comfortably now and that the Professor is with him. It doesn't appear as if there will be any lasting damage."

Relief flooded me. "Good. That's good."

"That's quite a gift you have," she said softly, with a touch of awe in her voice. Yeah, the little girl who almost killed the Wolverine. I bet she wouldn't think that if she saw how I'd hurled my guts out afterwards.

"Gift? You can return a gift." Logan agreed. It still made Jean smile.

"Yours is extraordinary." What planet was she on? God!

"It sucks."

She smiled. "I know the feeling."

"Oh really?" I had a hard time believe that. "You're gorgeous. You have a really cool, useful mutation. You're engaged to the black leather Prince Charming." I ignored Logan's growl of disdain. "You can touch him and he can touch you and someday you'll probably have the most adorable redheaded kids ever. You don't have to worry every second of every day that if you slip up, someone's going to die— "

There it was in her eyes, for just an instant. A flash. That strange whatever-it-was that weirded me out so much.

"I have features too big for my face, a crappy mutation that's completely impractical — painful for me and deadly for anyone else. I can't touch anyone, ever, and if all of that wasn't awful enough, I get gifts I can't control and voices that linger in my head after the dust settles."

Shit. I hadn't meant to add that past part, I'd just kinda been on a roll. I'd avoided mentioning that during my last exam. I normally wasn't a put it all out there and share it around kinda girl. Old habits die hard. I guess this whole thing had rattled me more than I first realized. Great.

I could tell I'd shocked her.

"You have telepathic ability?" She sounded way too interested. I'd forgotten that she'd told me that researching and exploring mutations was a hobby of hers.

"No."

"No? Then how do you hear voices?" There was a gleam in her eye that I didn't like at all.

"I don't read minds. My skin just takes them." You should be afraid. I could reach out even now and—

{Marie!}

Who was he trying to protect? Me or her? Me I guess, because a minute ago he'd been pretty keen to have her up here with him. A love nest where Scott could never find them. Hurl.

The misery must have shown on my face. Her expression softened instantly.

"It's awful, isn't it?"

That time I was the one who looked at her sharply.

"Knowing all those things. Thoughts inside your head that you can't control. Personal, private things you don't want to know or hear."

I think my mouth hung open.

"I was eleven when my mutation manifested. I heard everyone. Everything. _Everything_ ," she said again and I knew just what she meant. "I almost went crazy. I spent six months in near solitary when I first came to the school. The Professor helped me control it and in time taught me to help others to do the same."

It was a nice sentiment and I could feel for what she'd gone through, but she didn't really get it.

"It's not the same thing. You heard external voices that you learned to tune out. I have other people in my head, whole other people with thoughts and feelings and memories of their own. My own personal peep show that never sleeps and never stops. I know what they know. I feel what they feel. Their memories are my memories. I don't get a choice and neither do they. They bitch and argue and have their own opinions about everything. They fight with me and each other and influence me, sometimes when I don't even realize it. I can't turn them off. They aren't ever going to go away. I can't touch people and I'm never going to be alone again. There's a certain irony there that I just can't bring myself to appreciate."

She was definitely shocked now. Good.

I could feel Logan prowling along the edge of my consciousness like he did when I was upset and he wanted to offer comfort without being too intrusive. Yippee. He could be taught. He gave me the mental equivalent of a one claw salute. Screw taking the high road. I gave him the finger right back. Mess with the bull, you get the horns, sugar.

"Why didn't you tell any of this to the Professor?"

God, did she read his records too? I didn't like that.

"Why would I? He thinks I'll be incapable of physical human contact probably for the rest of my life. That didn't really inspire a lot of hope he could help me with anything."

Jean sucked in a sharp breath.

"I'm sure he didn't— "

"Give it a rest, Red."

"It's Dr. Grey, please." There was some heat this time. She was obviously flustered by the lingering Logan in my head and his interest in her. Welcome to the club, sister.

"Sorry," I mumbled. It wasn't exactly a basket of kittens for me, either.

Picking up the stethoscope, she warmed it in her palm and rolled closer. That twitchy feeling got exponentially worse. "Let's just take a second to get on the same page and then go from there, shall we? I'll just take a quick listen and do your vitals and then you can change and I'll do the physical exam."

Uh...

"He got you on right side, is that correct? Six punctures total? Three in the front, three in back?" I'm skinnier than his claws are long. That's strange. I could still feel his knuckles against my breasts. I don't even know how I feel about that yet.

How could she talk to me and listen to my heart at the same time? I shivered, not because of the cool stethoscope but because of her scent as she drew nearer. Oh, God. I was acutely uncomfortable, some bizarre blend of disgust and desire.

"Um. Both sides. Twelve total." Both lungs. They'd both burned like fire when they reinflated. The healing had actually hurt worse than the initial injury.

{Yeah.}

There was a wealth of pain in that one, short word.

"Breathe in for me."

I did and my head spun. That scent was killing me.

"Again, please."

I dragged another deep breath that smelled of strongly of Jean and faintly of arousal. Another shiver as I blew it out.

She moved the stethoscope. "And again."

It was torture. It was.

The stethoscope slid lower and her body moved closer. Just slightly. "One more time." She was nodding to herself. "Sounds good so far."

God.

When she pulled away, I realized I'd been rubbing a silky lock of her fiery hair between my fingers.

My face burned and I dropped my hands to my lap.

"I know it's difficult, Rogue, but I'm going to have to ask you to please keep your hands to yourself." She was very clinical about it. Calm and poised. Maybe I wasn't the first patient to ever come on to her?

"Sorry."

She bent to make a note in my chart and I saw down the front of that lacy scrap of satin she had on under her lab coat and robe. Her nipples were deep red, soft and small. To my horror, my mouth watered and a growl rumbled in my throat.

Jean looked up, startled.

Even the faint scent of arousal was killing me. I wanted to follow my nose, to put my face right there between her legs and chase after that thread of glossy heat; to feel those slim, strong legs wrapped around me. To taste her. To hear her call my name. Our name. Whatever.

"Oh!" Jean blushed scarlet. Jean never blushed.

Apparently she couldn't read my mind, but she had no problems if I projected. Perfect. The placid doctor persona wavered and I saw the woman she was underneath, strong and wild and a little bit dangerous. Logan's interest was hot and sharp and his blood burned under my skin even as I was mortified, and somewhat nauseated, by my reaction.

I wanted to die.

I stood up quickly, knocking the chair over.

"Rogue," she said sharply. "That is not appropriate. I—"

"Give it a rest, Jeannie. She's doin' the best she can."

_What? Hey!_

I didn't even know one of the voices could speak for me.

_Stop that!_

Jean's intelligent eyes narrowed and then widened slightly, incredulous. "Logan?"

"Jesus, woman. I've had fifteen years and it still gets away from me sometimes. She's had an evenin'. Cut the kid some slack already. It ain't her fault. Go find me and yell at me if you wanna. It ain't her who wantsta—"

_Shut up!_ I put my hands to my head. "SHUT UP!"

Jean was staring at me, her mouth open.

Welcome to ClueTown, sunshine. Enjoy your stay.

"Rogue..."

"I'm sorry. I can't do this. It's not your fault he wants you. It's nothin' personal. It just can't be you..." Well, maybe it was personal. Really damn personal.

Jean was nodding, her hands up in the traditional 'I surrender' body language and she was backing away.

Freaking finally. But it wasn't far enough or fast enough to suit me.

"Rogue, you need help. You were stabbed through the lungs. You should really be examined. I can— "

"Not you!"

I don't know which one of us said that. Maybe both.

"I understand. I'm the only doctor the school has on staff, but Dr. McCoy is here visiting the Professor for a few days to discuss the Mutant Registration Act. He's an expert in the field of genetic research, a Ph.D. rather than an M.D. He's been in the political arena for some time, but he's perfectly competent to— "

"That's fine."

"I should warn you, his appearance can be a little jarring."

"Darlin', I don't give a shit if he glows in the fuckin' dark. Get his ass in here."

_Logan!_

"There's no need to be rude. I understand." She smiled. "Rogue, sweetie, I know it's not you." She'd be wrong. It was kinda me too. I'd reached my limit. "I get it and I'm sorry for any assumptions I made earlier about the nature of your gifts. I understand completely now what you were trying to tell me. My deepest apologies. I'll get Hank — Dr. McCoy immediately."

Well, crap. She didn't have to be so nice about it. She really is a good person. Oh, I still hate her guts. It's just now I feel even crappier about it. And she'd always be pervy Doctor Jean to me. So there.

{C'mon, Marie. It ain't— }

_And you? What the hell was that?!_

{Hey, you needed someone to look out for ya.}

_I can do that myself!_

{Hmph.}

He clearly disagreed.

_Hey, I took the Wolverine down, didn't I? How many people can say that?_

{Just one, kid.}

Just one.

* * *

 


	3. The Beast

_See? Told you. The Wolverine is down for the count. The Professor thinks I'm a freak. I've got Jean on the run. I'm batting a thousand tonight, sugar. Next up, some weird looking doctor. How long do you think it'll be before I send him screaming into the night?_

I was only half joking.

{Heh. You ain't that bad.}

_I disagree._

{Hey, I letcha in my truck.}

_It must have been a momentary lapse of judgment on your part._

{Nah. I liked your sass. Nobody stands toe-to-toe with the Wolverine and goes the distance. You got some balls, kid.}

I laughed.

_Thanks._

I could tell he was trying to cheer me up, take my mind off things a little and I let him because, well, I needed it.

{You were pretty cute, too.} I caught an echo that sounded a lot like, 'Goddamn Bambi eyes'. {All skinny legs and big eyes and long dark hair.}

_You forgot big breasts._

{I dunno. I didn't look.}

_Liar, liar pants on fire._

{There's the mouth I like so damn much. I sure didn't miss noticin' that. You're a real straight shooter, aintcha?}

_Sometimes. Probably too often for other people's comfort._

{Not mine. You can't hurt me in here, darlin'.}

_Yeah, well... I get it. You think I'm cute. You might even like me a little._

{Ain't no little about it.}

He didn't seem particularly pleased about that.

_And I do something for you, but not in the same way Jean does._

{Give it a few years.}

_Gee, thanks._

{Whatcha want me to say?}

_Let's not forget I do have a pretty significant chunk of your feelings and memories. New ones are freshest._

{Fine. I looked. Happy now? Leggy and Lean. Long shiny hair. Miles of the whitest skin I've ever seen. And, Christ... that mouth...} I snatched the words that he wouldn't say.

_What exactly does 'built for pleasure' even mean?_

He sort of choked.

{Means if you gotta ask, you're too damn young for this conversation.}

_Does that excite you? That I don't know things?_

{More than it should.}

There was an image there, just out of my reach but when I tried to grab at it, he put himself firmly in the path. _Hey!_

{Hey, nothin'. Beat it.}

_It's my head._

{S'my thoughts.}

Stalemate.

_God, are you always like this?_

{No. Usually I'm more of a bastard. This is me bein' nice.} I laughed. {Where's that fuckin' doctor?}

_I don't know and I don't care. I'm dying for a shower. Do you think there's enough time?_

{Take one if you wanna, kid. You don't gotta answer to anyone. You ain't at their beck and call. There's a bathroom with a little shower just through there.} He flashed a picture in my head.

_I know._

{You do?}

_Yeah. She made me pee in the little cup too._

That shut him up.

I grabbed an extra pair of scrubs from the cabinet and headed to the shower. It was hot and utterly divine. Logan was thankfully silent. As I washed the leaves from my hair and the mud from my body, I was suddenly struck by the sight of my hands on my skin. God. How was I ever going to touch myself again with Logan in my head? We were going to need some serious ground rules. If I was going to be forever denied the touch of another, I damn well wasn't going to have to give up my own touch too. Not even for his mental comfort.

Swiping the towel over the mirror, I grimaced at what I saw. Dark hair, too big eyes in a pale face, scared and uncertain. I looked weak and afraid. I wasn't stupid. With my figure and the right clothes and makeup, there were days I looked twenty-five. Tonight with wet scraggly hair, a body too long on the road and a fearful expression, I barely looked fifteen. Except for the eyes. Those were definitely older than the rest of me. Seventeen seemed a significant jump. I'd earned those years, damn it. I'd earned them and I never wanted to feel this way again.

I toweled my hair, combed it with my fingers, and wound it up into a bun, securing the heavy knot with a smooth black pen before stepping into a pair of scrubs that made me feel even more inadequate. Mother Nature had been a little more generous with my figure than Jean's. I had to roll the scrubs up at the ankles but they were too tight in the seat and across the bust. Despite the ill fit, I looked like a child playing dress-up in her mother's clothes. Combined with my fresh face and the weight I'd lost, I could really see it. I was a child still in a lot of ways. No wonder Logan was so tetchy. I hustled away from the mirror, worried about the fallout if he saw me looking this way. He was squirrely enough with me at seventeen. I could feel the tears gathering. I hated feeling this way, so vulnerable and alone. I wished I didn't need anyone.

I opened the door of the bathroom to find a very large, furry, blue mutant sitting in the chair I'd recently vacated. There was no way he'd fit on a stool. He was massive and muscular with beautiful golden eyes behind black-framed glasses. He had short sharp claws and was wearing a white lab coat over a pair of flannel Phineas and Ferb pj's. I was instantly, utterly charmed. More amazing still was that he was furry all over. I could touch him without hurting him.

And the best part was that even though Jean had probably told him every last embarrassing detail, he was smiling at me, gently. Softly.

He said, "Hello, young lady. I am Dr. Henry McCoy. Please call me Hank."

The tears I'd been holding back broke through with all the drama of a teenage girl and I literally flung myself into his arms, crawling into his huge lap, crying and burying my face against his wide chest.

"Oh my stars," he murmured, his arms instantly coming to hug me tight while I sobbed and sniffed. His hand was warm on my back, soothing as he moved it in small, comforting circles.

"Sorry," I sniffed. "I— I can get down. My skin..." I'd probably terrified him.

"I am quite safe, I assure you." I could really feel that he meant what he said. He wasn't tense or nervous. His fur felt good under my fingertips. It was softer than it looked and it smelled nice too, a little like the cedar lining of mama's hope chest. "I am completely covered from head to toe. A rather fortuitous turn of events, as it turns out."

He was being really nice about it. He held me a long time and just let me cry.

"Sorry," I said again when I'd finally composed myself. "That's probably not the reaction you usually get."

"I should say not," He smiled down at me, revealing an impressive set of fangs. "Usually they run in the other direction."

The touch of vulnerability in him disarmed me completely, in a way Jean's clinical perfection never could. This man wasn't perfect. I know that most people don't like to think of their doctor as anything but infallible, but that small glimpse of his own insecurity won me over on the spot.

"Well, they're idiots. I don't see how anyone could look at you and not see anything but warmth and compassion."

"And blue fur," he added, his voice carefully ambivalent. "But thank you for that hearty vote of confidence. I shall endeavor not to let you down."

"I think your fur is wonderful," I said, holding him a little tighter. I knew it was a little selfish, but I was having a hard time letting go. I missed touch so much. "I'm sorry. I guess I really needed a hug."

"In a surprising turn of events, I found I quite needed one as well. Thank you, Rogue."

I hadn't told him my name but he obviously knew who I was. "Um... Did Jean tell you..."

He smiled again. "Well, I am quite certain it wasn't the Wolverine crying on my knee."

That made me giggle. I could feel Logan's skitter of amusement as well. "No, I think he's probably the eat a whole cheesecake in one sitting while sticking pins into his little voodoo doll type."

His growly laughter was belly deep. "I see. I do so admire a sharp wit, young lady. That you can find it within yourself to smile after the evening you've had says quite a lot about your character, I think."

Feeling more than a little foolish — but remarkably better after the first real hug I'd had in almost a year — I slipped to my feet, staring down at the floor. "Sorry," I said again, feeling terribly shy and more than a little embarrassed for having thrown myself into the lap of a perfect stranger.

"Please stop apologizing. There is no absolutely reason at all to feel uneasy." His grin was back. "And rest assured, even if the Wolverine does make another appearance this evening, I will not blush." He looked at me over his glasses. "And even if I did, there is no way you'd ever notice it under all this fur."

"I think we're pretty safe. You're not his type." I smiled at him. "Maybe if your fur was red." I could hear Logan growling in my head.

Too bad. He was going to have to get over the odd remark now and again. I had to be able to laugh at it, otherwise I was going to dissolve into another puddle of salty tears... after kicking his mental ass.

Hank chuckled before tapping a finger against his lips thoughtfully. "Red, you say? That's quite an amusing visage to imagine, although I believe the spot of resident redhead is already taken."

I frowned, thinking again of Jean and everything that had happened tonight.

"Please forgive me if my wayward musings dashed even a jot of brightness from your smile. That was not my intention. I too have had my share of heartache inside these walls, although it has been a few decades since I was here as a student. Still, I understand that keen sting all too well."

"Thanks, Hank. I'm sorry for falling to pieces."

"Nonsense. We all need a good hug from time to time."

"I wish I didn't."

"Whyever would you wish that? Imagine what we might become if we did not hold fast to the best parts of our humanity."

I thought that over, though I still felt like maybe he was looking on the bright side a little too much. "You know, you're pretty wise for—"

"Someone who looks like the Cookie Monster?"

I giggled again. "I was going to say a politician!"

"Ah, yes. Quite right. A necessary evil, I'm afraid. I prefer my laboratory to testifying before Congress, but all of us who choose to serve suffer for the cause now and again." He shrugged and his golden eyes sparkled. "And the truth is I much prefer Twinkies to cookies."

He had a really great bedside manner. "It's hot fudge sundaes for me. No nuts. No cherry. No whipped cream. I'm a chocolate purist. Just the fudge and lots of it. Even better if it's hot enough to make the ice cream go all melty."

My stomach gave an embarrassingly loud growl.

Hank smiled. "I could not agree more, although I am more of a butterscotch man myself. Now, shall we see to a quick exam so I can speed you on your way to the kitchen?"

"Yes, please."

"All right then. Let me get your file and we shall begin, if you have no objections?" He moved really gracefully for someone so large.

"I'm good." Definitely better than I'd been all night. And light years more comfortable than I'd been with Dr. Pervy.

"Wonderful. If you do not mind, may we start fresh? I am afraid I cannot read the deplorable handwriting in your file and I prefer to draw my own conclusions, if it is all the same to you."

"I — I'd like that a lot."

He nodded. "Off we go then. Age?"

"Seventeen."

"Height?"

"Five feet, four inches. Maybe four and a half if I really stretch."

He seemed to find that amusing. That growly chuckle rumbled again in his chest. It was deep and low and a little wild, like a lion. Definitely not a human sound at all. I liked it. "On the scale first, please."

He hummed over my weight. Barely a hundred pounds.

"My fighting weight is more like 115 or 120. It's been pretty lean on the road these last few months. I'm definitely looking forward to a few extra sundaes."

"Good. I am relieved to hear you are not one of those misguided young people hell-bent on starving themselves into emaciation to conform to society's Photoshopped standards of the feminine ideal. Reprehensible," he huffed. Hmm, the good doctor clearly had some issues there. Good. I did too.

"God, no. I like food way too much for that."

"I do as well." We shared a conspirational smile.

He put a thermometer in my ear and then took my blood pressure. "87 over 65." His gaze was thoughtful. "Are you an athlete?"

"No. Well, I did ballet for years, but nothing recently." Not since I manifested. I missed dancing.

"I see. It's a low-normal reading. Does low blood pressure run in your family?"

"I don't know. I don't think so." I shrugged. "It's probably Logan."

"I'm sorry?"

"I mean, his 'gifts'... the healing and stuff I took from him earlier. Just a guess."

"A very astute observation, young lady. Let me check." He pulled a file, opened it and flipped through a few pages before putting it back. "Of course, I can neither confirm or deny your hypothesis based on what data I might have gathered from Logan's file... I will, however, say that I did not expect a man so surly and irascible to have numbers within that range. Remarkable."

I could feel myself smiling.

"I should also add that the Professor shared with me that Logan has regained consciousness. His first thought was to ask after you and he was much relieved to find you well. He is now resting comfortably and should be back to his usual charming self come morning."

"Oh thank God!" I could feel the tears starting again.

He listened to my heart and lungs and then gestured to the gown. "You seem to be in excellent health, especially considering your time on the road these last few months, but given that you were stabbed six times in the chest, I wouldn't feel comfortable releasing you without a physical examination. Usually, it is customary to have someone else present during such an exam. Would you be more comfortable with Jean— "

"NO!" I coughed, embarrassed by the forceful protest.

"Perhaps Ororo?"

"Um, no. Just you. It's scary enough with my skin. Additional people just freak me out more." I smiled with a touch of dark humor. "Though I'm pretty sure my blood pressure has climbed well into the normal range now." That got a fangy smile out of him.

"Very well. I will step out for a moment to allow you to slip on the gown, opening in the front, please, and we'll finish this up, post haste."

"Sure. If you're sure. I mean, I don't want to hurt you." There was no way hands with claws like that were ever meant for latex gloves. Thankfully, he seemed to understand why I found the idea of a physical exam so upsetting.

"My dear, I assure you I will be quite unharmed. I have a fine nexus of micro fibers covering my entire epidermis." I felt really guilty for wondering if that included his—

{Marie!}

_I was wondering where you disappeared to, sugar._

{Givin' you privacy. Figured you'd holler when you were ready.}

_Scoot. I'm not done and we still have to do the top off part._

He left, but he was growing softly the whole time.

"Your skin poses no danger to me unless you take it upon yourself to distract me with a Twinkie whilst you stick a finger in my eye."

I couldn't help myself. I knew it was a Serious Situation, but I laughed. "Hank!"

"Much better."

I changed. He returned. The rest of the exam was remarkably unremarkable. He tapped and pressed on my sternum and examined my upper back, palpating the smooth skin, gently at first and then with some force before pronouncing me in perfect health.

Not a scratch or bruise. Not even so much a sore spot, I mused as I slipped the scrubs top back on in the bathroom.

"Remarkable," he was saying as I returned. "That is truly a divine gift, Rogue."

"It sucks."

"Be that as it may, it saved your life. Were it not for that so-called 'sucky gift', you would, in fact, be quite dead and we would be making burial arrangements this evening instead of plans to raid the kitchen for hot fudge sundaes."

"I see your point."

"Everything in perspective, my dear."

{He ain't wrong, kid.}

_I know._

{It sucks, but it saved ya. I know a bit about that myself.}

I could feel a sort of mental hug from him. It was awkward, but heartfelt.

_Thanks, sugar._

{You bet. Now get goin' before I hafta come out and claw him for touchin' ya and lookin' at your naked parts.}

_He's a doctor!_

{He's a man too.}

_A good man. One of the best. I can tell. I have a pretty good radar for that sort of thing._

{Hmph.}

"Hank?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for all of this. I feel awful for disturbing you in the middle of the night."

"Oh, never fear, I was awake. And even if I were not, I would not mind in the least. I am very glad to have met you, Rogue."

I could feel my face fall.

"What is it?"

"It's just... I wish we could have a re-do, you know? I'm really glad you were here tonight but I'd rather have you as a friend than a doctor."

A wide smile split his face. He'd clearly not been expecting that.

"My darling girl, I have not had the pleasure of a compliment like that in quite some time. It would please me greatly to be your friend." He stuck out his hand and I shook it before pulling him in for a big bear hug. He really did feel good. Warm and safe and wonderfully fuzzy. And he gave great hugs.

Logan growled.

_Hush, sugar._

_I need this._

I needed it desperately.

* * *

 


	4. The Professor

Cigars and brandy.

The night I nearly killed Logan, I had cigars and brandy with Charles. Although back then, he wasn't yet Charles to me. That came after Erik's little addition to the Marie Collective. But that's what I remember as being the strangest part of that night. I'm not sure what that says about me that I was actually more weirded out by that than I was by absorbing so much of Logan, or the fact that he'd stabbed me, or that I'd nearly killed him.

After I'd burned off some of the wildness with a long run, filled my belly, and gotten the peace of mind that always comes with any length of time spent in Hank's presence, I wanted a drink. Badly. I craved the rich sweet scent of cigars, too, and the want of both was making my skin shudder with anticipation.

I'd had my examination and shared a meal with Storm, who had very patiently waited for me to work out my issues in the medlab. It was nearly three in the morning when I left the kitchen, feeling more unsure of myself than ever. But I was full of crispy bacon, cheesy eggs and rich hot chocolate. They did wonders to improve my mood and the gnawing hunger sparked by the draw of Logan's mutation. I still wasn't too sure what to do with myself as I left. I stood in the empty hall, trying to make a decision.

What I'd really wanted to do was go to Logan's room and sit with him awhile, but I knew that was probably not the smartest idea. The Logan in my head agreed with me, though he was more concerned what people would say about me than what the others might think about him having a young girl in his room.

{Again.}

Typical. He'd always had to have the last word, even if the last word was him turning his back and stomping away with his proverbial cigar clamped between his teeth.

I felt bad because I knew what he meant all too well. It was all there in my head for me to see and feel, clear as day. He was used to people making the worst sort of assumptions about him and while it appeared to roll off his back, it got under his skin the same as it would with any of us. He had saved me. Protected me. Nearly died for me, and there would always be those people who saw a mature man and a young girl together and immediately assumed the worst.

I could only imagine the rumours that would be born from this night. Everyone had seen me touching Logan, in his room. Alone. At night. I knew that wasn't going to go down well. Or quietly. Teenagers weren't exactly known for being level-headed. Or for their restraint. I knew that first hand, being one myself. Case in point? My presence in Logan's room with my hands on him after dark.

The idea of going back to my room had felt strange. I still hadn't been ready to face Kitty or Jubilee and to answer their questions. Lord knew they'd have them. I sure would have if the shoe had been on the other foot, and they were already much too curious about him and what they called 'our relationship'. As if? I'd known that the third degree was coming eventually, but I'd still felt my feet drag as they pointed in that direction. I hadn't wanted to talk about Logan. Not with them. Not with anyone.

I'd found myself outside the Professor's study instead, not quite sure how I'd gotten there.

"Come."

Clearly, it hadn't been much of a surprise to him.

"Hi, Professor."

"Good evening, Rogue."

"Please, sit. Would you like some tea?"

I noticed he had a cup and saucer at his elbow. It was fragrant and perfumy. Earl Grey, maybe. He somehow managed to make his brown pajamas and tan bed jacket look properly reserved and perfectly respectable. I felt even more ridiculous with my poorly fitting scrubs and hair in a damp bun. It was getting heavy and uncomfortable. I wanted to take it down, but the idea left me feeling vulnerable.

"Um, no thanks." I sat but was up again a minute later, pacing. Everything still felt too claustrophobic. It was better by the windows. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass and closed my eyes, wishing I was outside. I was dying for a drink. Something more bracing than hot chocolate.

"Something stronger, perhaps?"

I turned to look at him.

"I thought you couldn't read my mind."

"I can't. But I can read Logan's and he has that same look when he is in this office."

I think my mouth hung open. I couldn't have been more surprised.

"Oh, come now. You have just been to the lower levels. You flew here in the Blackbird. You have seen the leather uniforms, and the team in action. Surely you don't imagine we are the sort to follow every rule, now do you?"

That made me smile. "I guess not."

"While I certainly do not condone underage drinking, I also understand when circumstances dictate a departure from the usual standard."

"Well, I am the Rogue, after all." That earned me a wry smile.

He poured me a cup of tea and added a healthy splash of brandy.

"Indeed. I understand Logan prefers whiskey, but this is all I had to hand." He smiled and poured a splash into his own cup. "Honey?"

"Um, yeah. I mean, yes please." I could almost feel Mama smacking the back of my head and telling me to sit up straight and be polite. Two days ago, I'd been eating out of trash cans. The transition to this opulence was jarring.

Even the brandy couldn't keep me in my seat. I was back at the window before long, my cheek against the smooth glass.

"Perhaps you would prefer the terrace? It's just through those doors there."

"Please," I nodded, feeling like someone had just tossed me a lifeline.

"Would you be willing to manage the tray?" I nodded again, putting the bottle of brandy on the silver tray next to our cups and the teapot.

"Sure. No problem. Back home I worked at the steakhouse before... um, well, just before." I'm sure he got the picture.

He tucked something into his pocket and looked at me expectantly. "Shall we?"

The night enveloped us like an old, familiar friend.

So that's how I wound up drinking brandy-laced tea under the stars with Charles. It was surreal. He lit two cigars and sat them in the ashtray between us. I understood mine was more for show, but he didn't begrudge me the few small puffs I took. It tasted horrible, but at the same time was incredibly satisfying in a way that I still can't quite explain.

Rolling his own cigar slightly between his fingertips, he gave me a curious look. "I trust you understand I would never offer tobacco to a student, except in the most narrow of circumstances. I have long enjoyed the peace brought to me by a good cigar and the fact that right now you will heal from anything goes a long way toward soothing my guilty conscience."

That he'd be worried about a little smoke when a few hours ago I'd nearly died made my lips twitch.

"I understand. And thanks." I didn't really smoke it, but it calmed me to hold it in my hand while I let the rich curls of smoke waft over me. I knew Jean had talked to him. He wouldn't have offered cigars and brandy unless he knew about the Logan in my head. It made me uncomfortable, and yet it was better than the alternative _—_ returning to my room, to more probing, personal questions and fearful faces.

"Of course." He took a sip of his tea. "How are you feeling, Rogue?" Until that point, we'd only been making the usual small talk. Comments on the weather, the classes I'd attended yesterday and my general impressions of the school. All very safe topics until now. That was the first real question he'd asked and the first I'd had to think about before answering.

How did I feel? That was a good question. I should have been tipsy after two cups of tea and brandy, but I wasn't even buzzed.

{That's the healin', kid. Definitely works against ya when you wanna get your buzz on.}

_Great._

No wonder Charles wasn't worried about giving me alcohol. I'd probably need to down a good portion of the bottle to feel much of anything at all. The taste alone had unwound me, however.

"I guess I mostly feel like ten pounds of potatoes in a five pound sack."

He was amused. His wry expression said, 'Oh, is that all?'

"It has been that kind of evening."

"I'm pretty embarrassed about most of it, to be honest. And I don't think I'll ever live down what happened in the lab. I guess Jean told you?"

We both knew she had.

"She shared with me that the nature of your mutation was a bit more extensive than we previously believed."

I looked away. "Sorry."

"You are hardly the first young person to come here wanting to keep some cards close to their chest."

"I wasn't trying to lie. It just didn't really feel important, especially considering you don't seem to have much hope that I'll ever be able to control it." I'm sorry if he doesn't much like it, but they were his words, not mine.

"There is always hope. Above all, that. I am terribly sorry I gave the impression I was unable or unwilling to help. I have made those things my life's work. I would be glad to help you in any way that I can."

"Did _—_ did she tell you the rest of it?" He obviously knew some, the real question was how much?

"I understood she had a conversation with Logan, through you, and that she found the nature of that conversation uncomfortable."

I almost laughed. There was more whitewash on that than a picket fence.

"Well, that's putting a nice face on it."

"Desire is unpredictable at the best of times. It goes where it wants, when it wants, and there is precious little one can do but accept there are some things far beyond our control."

Later I would realize he was talking about Erik. That night, I assumed he meant Logan and Jean. "I see." But I didn't really.

"It can be a most painful lesson, I'm afraid."

Did he mean for Logan? That it would be painful for him because Jean was with Scott? Did he mean for Jean because there was clearly some attraction there on her part and it had the potential to damage her relationship? Did he mean how watching the way Logan was with Jean was my own special kind of hell? Or maybe he meant for me because there was something between Logan and I as well, something that scared all of us for different reasons.

"I don't doubt it." There, I'd acknowledged it without letting anything too personal slip.

"Society is never kind to those in your position, Rogue."

He could have meant anything. The fact that I was a high school dropout and a runaway. The fact that I was a mutant. The fact that I held a bit of a torch for a person who was clearly interested in someone else. The fact that the person I was beginning to have feelings for was wrong for me by practically every measure society had to judge by. He was too hard, too damaged, too jaded, too dangerous, too interested in another woman and much too old for someone of my tender years. Except he didn't feel too old for me. He just felt like Logan. He just felt _right_. I understood there was an imbalance of power, but like the foolish child I had been back then, I stupidly thought that because it didn't matter to me, it wouldn't matter to anyone else. I'd all but convinced myself that Logan might even like it that way for a while.

In some ways I could understand what Charles was saying. I'd seen it tonight in the mirror in the medlab. I was a child. And yet also not. I was light-years away from Jubilee and Kitty. They were nice but too small, somehow. Like that sad feeling you get when you realize you've outgrown one of your friends. I couldn't even begin to tally up the years worth of memories I had in my head. Surely that counted for something? It felt a bit like that old childhood game; which one of these is not like the others?

"I don't really want to talk about Logan, if that's okay."

"We can speak generally, if you would prefer."

"I would. Sorry."

"Never be sorry for speaking your mind. How else am I to know what is on it?"

How else indeed?

"Would it have mattered if I said no?" He wanted to talk about Logan. I had reluctantly agreed to speak about it in general terms, but I preferred not to talk about Logan at all.

"Ah. There's the rub. If it were only you and me, my counsel would be much different in this matter. I am, and have always been, a proponent of following one's heart, although someone very wise once told me that I needed to learn to walk with my own heart before I could expect someone else to do so. That said, I am still the headmaster of this school. It must be above reproach. I cannot have underage students alone in an adult's room after hours. Even the whisper of impropriety is enough to destroy all that we have worked so hard to create. I cannot condone a course of action that threatens my ability to help every single student within these walls. Do you understand?"

I was spitting mad.

"I suppose the reason doesn't matter." I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud. There is nothing wrong with what I did. It wasn't about sex at all. It wasn't dirty or bad. It was... a kindness. He was _suffering_.

{You don't owe him a fuckin' thing, kid. Stick to your guns if you wanna. I'll back ya.}

_Thanks, cowboy._

Maybe that's what he's trying to do? Get Logan to jump out of my mouth again?

{I dunno. I don't think so. I didn't get that vibe from him, darlin'. He's plenty uptight, but he ain't cruel.}

_I don't know, sugar. He's a hard read. I think he genuinely wants to help, but I also think he'd sell me down the river in two seconds flat if he thought it would serve the greater good._

{Well, you definitely don't get to be in charge of a get-up like this without learnin' how to make the hard choices.}

I couldn't agree more.

"So does the reason matter, Rogue? In theory, always. In reality, no, it does not."

"That's what I thought."

"Do not misunderstand me. I am on your side in this and I do hope that this is not our last discussion on the subject. Despite what you may think, I am more open-minded than you might expect about a great many things." His mouth twitched. "I wasn't always in this chair, you know. I had my own uniform once upon a time and my own unrequited attachment to someone society thought was wrong for me in every way."

An attachment I'd know about all too soon when Erik raped my mind in the torch.

But that night I was mostly just tired and angry and confused.

"How'd that work out for you, Wheels?"

Charles' eyes widened slightly and then he smiled.

"Good evening, Logan."

"Sorry," I squeaked out.

"It is quite alright. I would be more concerned if you integrated him without a bump or two in the road."

I wondered if he had any idea what'd I'd really been through tonight on the grounds.

{Sorry, kid.}

_Don't be, sugar. I'm standing here because of you. I wish I could tell you differently, I wish I could stand on my own two feet without needing anyone, but it's the truth._

{Nothin' wrong with that.}

_There is._

"I definitely wouldn't say it's all been smooth sailing, but I feel like I have a pretty good handle on it now." That was not exactly a lie. I had a lot of Logan in my head still and he was stronger, more real and full and present than anyone else I'd ever absorbed before, but we were... compatible. I gave him a wan smile and put my cup down. "I'm really tired. I think I'm gonna get back to my room, Professor."

I didn't really want to talk to him about Logan. Not even generally. I excused myself with a quiet goodnight and fled, my feet only slowing as they drew close to my room.

I'd been a rule follower my whole life and what had it gotten me? Somehow, I always wound up getting screwed. That night I decided I was done following any rules but my own. Even though I'd been expressly told not to, I stopped by Logan's room on my way back to bed. Nobody heard me as I slipped in silently, not even the man inside.

This time Logan was sleeping deeply. That he didn't wake spoke to his unusual level of exhaustion, but his rest was peaceful. Easy. His face was smooth and relaxed. He looked younger without the cynical twist to his sharp, handsome features. I wanted to apologize for what had happened tonight but I didn't have the heart to wake him. He didn't sleep this fitfully very often.

I sat down at the small desk to write him a note but the words wouldn't come. I watched over him as he slept instead and realized some time later the stationary in my fingertips had become a paper crane. I touched it to my lips briefly and left that for him instead. He would know who put it there and hopefully what it meant.

I left as silently as I came and suddenly my small bed with the yellow sheets didn't feel quite so terrifying anymore. I felt remarkably free and strangely anchored at the same time, and the blame for both could be laid squarely at the feet of the man asleep across the hall.

We aren't two star-crossed lovers. We barely know each other. Well, I know him a lot better than he knows me...

{Hmph. I know enough.}

_The other him, sugar._

I'm not crazy, though. I'm not in love. Not even a little. We're strangers, not friends. But there is something undeniable between us. Not just a spark. A connection. Something strong and deep that terrifies us both.

Not because of what it is, but because of what it could become.

* * *

 


	5. The Girl

What had been a glimmer in Laughlin City became a promise on the train, sworn in the blood of the fallen that night in the torch.

_I would die for you._

It grew in breadth and depth as he closed her fingers around his past; a truth so naked and raw it defied words.

_I'll be back for this._

Instinct had driven what had happened in the torch. Giving her his tags had been a conscious choice and the ramifications terrified him. Fifteen years of intensely guarded privacy had been cast aside in a single spontaneous moment, perhaps the most honest, sincere gesture he'd ever made. The implications were staggering.

_We are connected. I will return to claim what is mine. You are not alone. In your hand, you hold the only tangible piece of myself that exists in this life, my only tie to this world, my only link to the man I lost. Hold it. Hold him. In the long nights ahead, let it comfort you. Let the idea of it wrapped around you comfort me._

He could hardly look at her as he pulled the chain from his neck. The paper crane she'd given him burned in the pocket over his heart. It was too much, too soon and yet for a moment, the shackles of the world fell away. To hell with propriety. His eyes were on fire as he reached for her hand and curled her fingers over the warm metal.

_Don't let me go._

The miles between them meant nothing; a black ribbon of road with nothing but cold and bitterness at the end of it. There were fights and women and long nights spent in brooding contemplation. Physical release brought him little peace. He indulged more than he should. She was never in his mind then. He chose redheads instead. They were safer. It was hollow, fleeting pleasure. The shame came after. Not because of the women, but because with their touch upon him and their scent still drying on his skin, he reached for her memory in the darkness and wrapped himself chastely in dreams of gloved arms.

It was hard at the end of the day not to need that distraction from the pain. With her, he could be empty and weightless. It was a beautiful release. In those gloved arms he could be far away, miles from a dark, cold hotel room and the endlessness that he felt. She pulled him from the wreckage of his silent reverie and brought him comfort. A small measure of peace in a sea of pain.

She was still a child when he returned. It sobered him even as she reached out to him with the same easy affection. She still smelled the same, like a fresh snowfall and the freedom of an open road. Her hair was shinier, her figure less gaunt. Still the same sass... and Christ, that mouth. That mouth and a new little boyfriend who made him want to laugh so he didn't bleed the ground red.

Guilt and shame and a mocking question.

_So, how do you guys...?_

He'd never consciously allowed himself to go down that road. But there had been dreams. Terrible, wickedly erotic dreams that left him conflicted and ashamed. And hard. The words were out before he could stop them. He felt her eyes on him, incredulous he'd dare ask. He had the sense that if he threw the gauntlet down again she was going to pick it up and knock him to the ground with it.

Her power was growing.

A flicker of red caught his eye as Bobby dragged Marie away from him. He recognized the possessive gesture for what it was, even though the male who had her in his grip was barely more than a cub himself. Logan didn't like it, but there was no way that boy would ever be able to hold someone as powerful as Marie. He'd only just caught her at the edge. She'd slip over the precipice soon and all hell would break loose.

Jean appeared before him and the contrast between her maturity and Marie's adolescence struck him again, sending a fresh wash of guilt through him. Years, he thought. There were years still to wait, and even then no promise that she would accept him. It would be better, easier for them both if he could let her go. As cynical as he was, he knew there was little chance of that happening. You couldn't unring a bell. That die had been cast the moment she'd climbed into his truck.

He could find a suitable distraction, however. His blood still burned for Jean; or perhaps more accurately for what she represented. She wanted him. It was familiar and safe. There was never a chance of anything permanent with her. She was never going to love him back and he could sense a blackness in her, something wild and powerful. There was no reason not to indulge himself with someone whose light he couldn't smother. Marie could have her little starter boyfriend. This was the play of adults.

And then the world had shifted again.

The return of his tags staggered him. He hadn't even worked out what that really meant when Jean had given her life at Alkali Lake to save them all. It had been Marie who picked up the pieces. Marie who knit the ragged edges of his soul back together. He didn't even have the tags to anchor him anymore. He'd tossed them away in a fit of rage. If she didn't want them, then he didn't either. It shouldn't have made him so angry. It was Jean that he loved. But his strange connection with Marie seemed to supersede everything else, even when it shouldn't. That made him angry too.

That time when he left, he didn't say goodbye.

She was less of a child when he returned again. She wasn't quite comfortable yet in the leather, but he could appreciate the way it nipped in her slender waist and flared over her hips. No child had hips like _that_. That time, he was the stable one and it was Marie who was all over the emotional map. There were moments where he could clearly see the woman she was becoming and moments where her childish petulance grated on him. That she could so quickly vacillate between the two extremes made him acutely uncomfortable. And then Jean had returned from the dead and shaken his whole world.

That time Marie didn't have the tags. That time he was free to take what he wanted from Jean; and he'd gone right after it, consequences be damned. Marie wasn't the only one who had things to learn.

It seemed like such a cruel twist of fate. He'd only been passing through, partly to touch base with the Professor and partly to check on who had been growing in his absence. She wasn't even twenty yet. The years that had been blending together for nearly two decades suddenly seemed to be standing still.

That time he'd lost them both, Marie to the Cure and Jean to wildness inside her. She had never loved him. Not even a little. Instead, she'd begged him to save her and he had because he had loved her.

That time, even Marie hadn't been able to put him back together again.

She'd known it since the funeral service. Everyone else had been watching Storm speak. Marie's eyes had been on him as he'd watched from a distance. He'd never been a joiner. Even Jean's death couldn't change that. Marie had known then what was coming. She'd always been able to read him better than anyone else. Storm had needed Logan so he'd stayed. He made it nine days, losing ground to the darkness a little more with each moment that passed.

That ninth evening, he'd found Marie alone by the lily pond, trailing her ungloved fingers in the cool water.

"You're leaving," she said softly, without turning to look at him. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah. Soon."

"Are you coming back this time?"

"I don't know."

They both knew he wasn't.

She turned to look at him. His eyes were dark and haunted and his expression hadn't been that open with her since he'd shouted for help in the moments directly following his claws sinking into her chest. He had that same look of desperation now.

"It's all right. I'll be okay." Her voice was soft but unwavering. She understood what he needed from her. Absolution. Sometimes she wished she was the child everyone thought she was. Between Erik and Logan and the others she'd touched through the years, she had more than two centuries of memories and they all told her the same thing. He'd given up his life for her without question or hesitation that night in the torch. Now it was her turn to give. "It's okay for you to say the words, Logan. I'm not going to break." Or at least not in front of him. Her eyes glittered with the painful sting of tears.

She could keep it together now, while he needed it. She'd fall apart later.

"I can't be here anymore. It hurts too much."

"I know. I'm sorry."

He sat next to her and pulled her close. The familiar temptation to lose himself in her softness, to take solace in her, stabbed through him like a hot spire and he hated himself for it. Should he really be feeling that if he'd loved Jean as much as he thought he did?

It wasn't fair to put that on her. She was just a girl. A sapling. If he leaned on her now, she'd snap. He'd break her and she'd never be the same again. He'd been lost before, but this was something more. Something different. With each excruciating breath, the last of his moorings sheared away. Each life he'd taken was a stone around his neck. Jean's was the heaviest of all. The weight of them, the knowledge he'd likely carry that burden forever, brought home the concept of immortality in a way that terrified him. He could feel himself slipping into the pit. The shadowy grabbing hands had him now and were pulling him deeper even as he struggled against them.

And yet he'd made a promise and the last shreds of his honor demanded he keep it, despite the personal cost. He'd bound himself to her and she to him. He couldn't make himself break the last tie to the world. She had to cut it for him. She had to or she was going to be pulled down with him.

"I need you to let me go, kid."

His eyes were wet too. He was a stoic man but he'd never been afraid of showing emotion when he felt something deeply. Not much got under his skin, but when it did, it was there for the long haul.

"I know." Hot tears slipped from under her lashes. Hearing him say it broke something inside her.

And then they were two people without hope.

She slipped onto his knee and wrapped her arms around him before touching her forehead to his. It was a moment beyond words. She wanted to give him the little piece of sea glass she wore around her neck so he would have something to remember her by as the years passed, but she understood he needed to be completely free if he was ever going to find his way through to the other side of the expanse.

She took his head in her soft, cool hands. The touch he thought he'd never have brushed the tears away from his cheeks, first with her thumbs and then with a gentle kiss.

"It's okay. It's a glorious sadness and I don't regret a single moment of it." She touched her mouth to his, softly. Chastely. She tasted of salt and love. He held her tighter, knowing she was going to free him with her next breath. "I hope you can find somewhere where you can feel the sun on your face." He understood she meant an internal place. "Leave whatever you have to, Logan. Don't feel guilty. And don't look back."

And then she was gone.

**~ooOoo~**

{Marie, darlin'?}

_Please don't._

{You gonna be okay, kid?}

_No. I need to be alone now._

Solace couldn't come from _him_. That was just too much.

It was Erik's steely resolve that kept her upright. Kept her moving. Kept her from splintering into a thousand jagged shards.

He was whispering into her mind. Telling her not to be weak. That she didn't need Logan. That she didn't need anyone. That such attachments would only hold her back. He was wrong, so very wrong, but she allowed herself to draw on his strength to shore up her own flagging reserves. His icy detachment served her well as she put one foot in front of the other. Her heart stayed behind. Her hope, too. Something warm and beautiful had been snuffed out before it had ever had a chance to grow.

{Sentiment is for the weak.}

Marie didn't even bother with a sharp reply to the bitter, old man. They both knew better. He was mourning too. The news of Charles' death had shaken her, but Erik's reaction had escalated the empty ache inside her to something beyond pain. She could feel him even now, broken and raw like a nerve exposed. She thought he'd lash out in rage, want to reach for every shred of metal and smash the world. Instead he'd wept. Openly. Deeply. More human in his pain than he'd ever been.

He understood how she was feeling now and she accepted the strength he lent her in the spirit it was given. The words he spouted were nothing but a mask. She understood he needed that veneer, even here in her head where there were no secrets.

She found Storm in the garden on her way back inside. Her light was dim, too. She'd grown up with Jean and Scott in Charles' loving care. Her loss was perhaps the most keen of all, and she bore it regally, with grace and humility.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, but do you... do you have a minute?" Marie pulled her own mask tighter over her features, schooling them into something approaching normalcy. She had some leeway. They'd just buried their friends. Looking sad wouldn't be out of place.

"Of course, child. What is it?"

"I wanted to tell you I'm going."

"Going?"

"Yes. I'm leaving. I'm not really a mutant anymore. I shouldn't be here."

It wasn't the real reason, or at least not the whole reason. But it was good enough.

"This place will always be your home, Rogue."

"Thanks, but I just can't..."

"Is this about the Cure? Or about Logan?" Storm knew it was much too soon, but she had wondered what would eventually happen between Logan and Rogue when Jean no longer stood between them. She didn't really think it had ever been about Jean as much as it had been about Logan's fear of hurting Rogue. Jean was simply an excuse. A distraction. What would he do now that it was gone?

"No. This is about me."

Marie remembered feeling this same helplessness the night Logan stabbed her. She'd vowed then she was never going to need anyone again; that she was going to be strong enough to stand on her own. What an utter failure she'd been. She'd never really even tried. She was standing now, however, despite the crippling blow she'd just taken. It made her feel good. There was a place to focus her pain and rage and despair. She would change and she would never again be the girl relying on anyone else to keep from being eviscerated. Until that moment, Rogue had just been a name, an idea she'd aspired to.

Tonight she pulled that persona on and chafed at the threadbare fit. It wasn't much, but it was a beginning.

"Where are you going?"

That was a good question. Logan was as good as gone. Her breakup with Bobby was still fresh. Alaska had always seemed alluring and exciting but she suddenly found she didn't have the same taste for the cold that she once did. Perhaps someplace where she wouldn't feel ice crystals on her breath.

"If you wanted to go somewhere warm, somewhere that was all skin and sun and freedom, where would you go?"

Storm smiled broadly, her eyes lit by a warm memory. "Bali."

"Then I'll start there." It seemed as good a place as any to start the process of building The Rogue.

"How can I help? Forgive me for being indelicate, but do you need money?"

Marie shook her head. "No, thanks. I'm _—_ I'm good. Charles left me an inheritance." She gave herself a mental shake. It always threw the others when she used his first name. To them he was the Professor. He was like a father to most of the kids here. To her he was more. He'd been her legal guardian since she was seventeen. They'd had a special relationship that had grown deeper with the addition of Erik to her plural memory. In all the important ways, he was the father she'd so desperately needed and he'd been as generous with her in death as he had been in life. She would never want for money again.

In her darker moments, she wondered if it was truly just because of her or if he had cared for her so tenderly because she was a vessel, keeping safe a piece of the man Charles loved above all others. Looking after her was a way for him to take care of Erik, in a way Erik himself had never allowed.

"Oh. Well of course he did. Why didn't I think of that?" Storm smiled. "Don't be a stranger, okay? With powers or without, you'll always have a home here."

Marie wondered if she knew Charles had once said the same thing to Mystique. Times change. So do people. They might not want her back when she was finished rebuilding herself.

"Thanks, 'Ro."

She took next to nothing. Her credit card and phone, her passport and sunglasses, a small backpack with a few essentials and a pair of brown opera gloves out of habit. When she arrived in Bali, she'd buy a bikini and a sarong and live in that for the foreseeable future. She left her long green coat placed carefully across the end of her bed. On impulse, she folded a paper crane from a piece of the crisp green stationery Charles had given her for her birthday. She left it perched atop the coat that was so symbolic of the trappings of her old life. No more layers. No more hiding. No more Marie. She'd cut Logan's last ties with this place and inadvertently her own as well.

It was time.

**~ooOoo~**

Logan hadn't intended to see Marie again before he left, but he'd had an unpleasant encounter with Jubilee in the garage. She'd heard he was leaving and ripped into him for daring to skip out when Bobby had just dumped Rogue.

"What do you mean dumped?"

"Dumped, dude. You know, finito, over, kaput, danced the last tango in Paris _—_ "

"What? When?"

"Three nights ago. She didn't tell you?"

"No."

"Shit. You didn't hear it from me then. She swore me to secrecy but I kinda thought she told you everything. You know, since you're like her _—_ "

The look on his face stopped her cold.

Hitching his pack higher on his shoulder, he turned on his heel and left Jubilee standing there, gaping like a fish at his retreating back.

Marie's room was empty. All her things were there but her presence and warmth were gone. The small paper crane she'd left behind spoke volumes. He'd needed and she had given. She wasn't a kid any longer and he'd missed it. A part of him was glad. His darkness would never touch her now.

She was free.

And he was in hell.

* * *

 


	6. The Never Never

_Out on the wastes of the Never Never_  
 _That's where the dead men lie!_  
 _There where the heat-waves dance forever  
_ _That's where the dead men lie!_

**[The Never Never]**

Bali was a blur of tiny bikinis and naked skin and a whole lot of touching that meant far less than it should have. Bali became Bintan and clothing and morals became a thing of the past. Marie slept her way up the coastal island cities, sampling everything and tasting nothing. By the time she got to Singapore, there were rumors the Cure was only temporary. By Thailand her skin was beginning to tingle. By India she'd left a lover unconscious. By Kathmandu the gloves were back on and she had started looking for something more than a good time.

A budding interest in Buddhism and a string of prayer flags led her north. By Lhasa she'd finally stopped running. This time she didn't mind the ice crystals on her breath. She lived for two years at a monastery in Tibet, learning, healing. She shaved her head and surprised everyone by asking for a piece of paper to fold into an envelope to save a lock of her hair. It had caused quite a commotion until she'd explained it wasn't for her to keep, but a gift for someone back home who would be sad to lose her; to lose the person she was there to let go of.

She had already given up hope. A little hair was nothing.

By the time the summons came to return to the mansion, she didn't even think in English anymore. She hadn't wanted to leave, but words like duty and honor meant something different to her now. Storm had been injured. With Jean, Scott and the Professor long-dead and Logan gone, there was no one left to hold things together. Bobby and Kitty couldn't do it on their own. She knew what going back would mean. A return to The Rogue, to the steady progress of becoming invulnerable, an island to herself.

She stopped only to have a reminder of the peace she'd found tattooed onto her poisonous skin.

**~ooOoo~**

The phone at the mansion rang. "Xavier's Home for the Gifted. You shake 'em, we bake 'em." Fucking perfect. It was that little yellow one. What was her name again? "Jubilee speaking."

Right. Jubilee.

"Lemme talk to Rogue."

"Who's this?"

"You know who."

"Oh my God! How long has it been? Three years? Four? Whatcha been up to, Wolvie?"

"Nothin'. Just get her, huh?"

"No can do, Kemosabe. She's not here."

"She out?"

"No. Unless you mean out of the country."

Logan was surprised. It had been three years. He assumed she'd be long back by now.

"Where the hell is she?" He'd never really pictured her as the Endless Summer sort. She'd always been the kind of person who needed roots.

"Tibet."

"You mean Timbuktu, dontcha? If you don't wanna tell me then just say so."

"There something wrong with that fancy hearing of yours? I could spell it for you. I said she's in Tibet."

"On a mission?" The top of the world was a bit of a far reach, even for these do-gooding geeks.

"No."

No?

"What the fuck's she doin' in Tibet?"

"Learning to like hot buttered tea with yak milk, I guess. Look, haven't you done enough? If you want to leave a message for her, I'll see she gets it if she ever comes back. But I hafta say if she wanted you in her life, she'd have probably made sure you knew where to find her, ya know?"

"You're a real ray of sunshine, aintcha?"

"Always. You got any other official business? Because unless you do, I'm gonna hang up."

"Storm okay?"

"You heard?"

"Yeah. Still got my ear to the ground. I hear things, even over here."

"Where's here?"

"Japan." He sounded as though he'd like to come through the phone and shake the stuffing out of her. The idea didn't displease her. Let him stew. There was no love lost between them. "You gonna tell me about Storm, or what?"

"The FoH is really stepping up their game. She was supposed to give a talk. Mutant-human relations. Living in peace. All that jazz. They bombed the venue. It was bad. Concussive injuries. Crush injuries. Shrapnel."

"Shit."

"Yeah. It was touch and go for a while, but she's gonna pull through."

"Good. That's good."

"She's gonna make it but she's not gonna be our public face for a while, if you know what I mean."

"Gotcha."

"Where was this?"

"Montreal. They've got everything locked up tighter than a drum right now, but we'll find the ones responsible eventually."

"I'll look into it too."

"Why?"

"Because I pay my debts, honey." He owed the Professor. He owed Marie. There was a lot to atone for.

"We could use the help, sure, but they'll never let you close."

"I'm Canadian," he grunted.

"Right. Agent Double O Canuck, on the job."

Jesus. Logan rolled his eyes.

"I'll letcha know if I find anythin'." He paused. "And let her know I called, huh?"

"Roger that." She popped her gum and hung up on him.

Logan stared out at the starless night. Tibet?

Jesus, darlin'. I hope you know what you're doin'.

**~ooOoo~**

Rogue's return to the mansion wasn't like any of them had imagined. Overshadowed by Storm's injuries and the circumstances in which she left, it was a quiet affair. Coffee in the kitchen with Jubes and Kitty and then a briefing in Charles' old office where she met Warren and Remy, two new additions to the team. They seemed unimpressed, though they were glad of another pair of hands. She didn't even stay the night. She was almost unrecognizable with her short spiky hair, but she was the perfect choice to infiltrate the FoH cell they'd had their eye on for months.

Jubilee cried over her hair while she dyed it black in Jubes' bathroom. Even shorn, the white patch was too noticeable.

"I can't believe you cut it, Roguey."

"It's just hair. It'll grow back."

"But it was so pretty. It was your power... you know, like your boobs. Toss the hair, stick out the girls and watch the men fall in line."

Too many scenes from Bali that had started exactly like that flashed in her head.

"The boobs are mostly gone now too."

"You are not wrong. Didn't they feed you over there, chica? You weren't even this twiggy when Wolvie picked you up on the road."

"There are more important things in life than food and hair, Jubes."

"Yeah, sex. I hope you got some of that at least before the Cure wore off."

"I think it's safe to say I pretty much sampled the local cuisine from Bali to Kathmandu."

"Get out!"

She blushed, suddenly aware of the chasm between Marie and the Rogue.

It was the first glimmer of the person Jubilee remembered.

"Good for you, sweetie. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be."

"It was and it wasn't." She didn't elaborate. She didn't want to be rude, but the idea of reforming attachments made her uncomfortable. If she didn't let anyone close, she couldn't get hurt. And she also didn't want to say aloud what they'd both been thinking. It wasn't what she'd wanted it to be because none of them had been Logan.

"Speaking of all things ambivalent, Wolvie called for you."

"What?"

Now that she hadn't expected. Never in a million years.

"A few weeks back, he called for you. He was pissed when I told him you weren't here and then he asked about Stormy and said he'd look into it. That he owed a debt or something. He's probably in Montreal by now. He said he was in Japan. He made sure I'd tell you he called, even though I was pretty clear you'd kick his ass to the curb."

Oh, sugar. What have you done?

**~ooOoo~**

Logan's bike roared through the gates and he was surprised at how everything looked the same. In general, that wasn't his experience. Whenever he went back, things were always different, and not usually in a good way. This place had a timeless quality he found disturbing.

Cutting the engine, he kicked down the bike stand and stood, stretching and rolling his neck with a pop. It had been a long drive. The wind was at his back now, gusting strongly. Being pushed all over the road hadn't made for a pleasant ride. In the garage, a woman was bent over unloading some smoke-damaged file boxes from a red Jeep Cherokee. He took a moment to appreciate the sight. She had a magnificent ass. Nice long legs. Good taste in boots. Pretty blouse. She straightened and lifted her arms to shut the back of the Jeep. Dark spiky hair and a long slender neck. The hair wasn't really his thing, but her ass more than made up for it.

He was just wondering if this was one of the new recruits when she turned and he caught her face in profile. The world seemed to tilt on its axis.

"Jesus Christ! That you, kid?"

She turned all the way now, an apprehensive smile on her face as he dropped his pack and strode toward her, his long strides eating up the ground between them. Up close he could see she was wearing flesh toned gloves.

Before he could even process that, she opened her arms like always. It happened before she'd even registered what she was doing, but by then it was too late to take it back. He hugged her hard, breathing in her scent. It wasn't quite the same. A fresh snowfall over incense now. Her body shifted against his automatically, the slightest tilt of her pelvis against his hips and the gentle press of her breasts. It told him before they'd even parted that she was a woman who'd known the carnal touch of a man.

He couldn't even begin to name the feeling that had rolled through him in the wake of that realization.

Logan stepped back, ruffling her short, choppy hair.

"It suits you, darlin'."

"You hate it," she said with a soft smile.

He did.

"Hey, I lost my right to have a say a long time ago."

"Water under the bridge." She tilted her head and looked at him carefully. She didn't ask him how he was or what he'd been doing. That surprised him. "You look the same, but you're not," she finally offered. There was a stillness, a weight in his bearing that made her think he'd been through some very dark times.

Wasn't that the fucking truth? She'd always been able to read him better than anyone else.

"It's a long story." He couldn't keep from staring at her. She looked so strange to him without her hair. "You legal yet?"

"I was legal when I got in your truck," she said quietly. The age of consent in New York was seventeen. It was even lower in Canada.

"I meant havin' a beer, kid."

He chuckled as her face flamed.

"Oh. Well, yeah. For a few years now." She was twenty-three going on a thousand.

"You wanna grab a drink later?"

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"I wanna hear about Tibet. I need to tell you about Japan."

"Japan, huh?" He nodded. "Jubes told me you called."

"Yeah. Missed ya," he offered into the silence. It was strange. Their silences never used to be awkward.

And it was the first time he'd ever offered her a piece of himself that she hadn't jumped at.

He didn't like the way that felt.

"I guess that'd be okay."

"Well don't go gettin' all mushy on me," he teased.

That strange faraway look was back in her eyes. "I lost my right to that a long time ago." She tossed his words back at him casually, not to wound, but there was a definite distance now that hadn't been there before.

He'd asked her to cut him free. Caught up in his own pain, he hadn't realized what cutting that connection would do to _her_.

"It's good to see you, Marie," he said, hefting his pack to his shoulder.

She just nodded and he saw that her smile wasn't touching her eyes. "It's Rogue now."

"Sure, kid." She didn't have to explain. He could feel the change for himself.

**~ooOoo~**

They met at a roadhouse bar. It was the kind of place that used to feel comfortable, but after three years in Japan, he felt like an outsider. It was more disturbing still to watch Marie walk in as comfortable as you please, saddling up to the bar with a slow, rolling gait that had more than one pair of eyes drawn to her lush hips.

"Double Jack for me. Neat. And a long neck, sugar. The darker the better."

"Sure thing, honey." The bartender looked from Marie to him expectantly.

"Same for me. Molson if you got any."

Their drinks came and they found a quiet corner table. Logan lit a cigar. "I was surprised to see you, kid. The little firecracker made it sound like you weren't comin' back."

"I wasn't. I'd still be in Tibet if it was up to me."

He left that alone. It was too early for that kind of conversation.

"What about you, Logan?"

"It's complicated."

"It always is with you."

"The short answer is that I missed you and I have some fences to mend. I heard 'Ro got hit pretty bad and I had a debt that needed payin'."

"And the long answer?"

"The long answer is that I needed to be doin' somethin' good that means somethin' for people I care about." There was a flash in his eyes that told her to tread carefully. He was placid on the surface but there were some serious waves rolling underneath.

She gave him a heavily edited version of her trip from Bali to Kathmandu and then she told him about Tibet. He was enthralled by her journey and yet somehow saddened by the parts she left out. There was old pain there. She'd healed and moved on, but it had left a mark.

"You really speak Tibetan?"

"Sure. What do you think, that I just used sign language for two years?"

He chuffed softly in amusement.

"My first language came from you. Well, the second, I guess. I already spoke English, even if it is with a drawl."

"Come again?"

"I could speak Japanese after _—_ just after," she finished dumbly. They'd never spoken about that night he'd stabbed her and she'd almost killed him. "German and Hebrew after the torch. From Magneto," she added unnecessarily. "I picked up some others along the way."

"Others?" Now that he knew how she was picking them up, he didn't like the sound of that. Not one bit.

"Malay. Thai. Mandarin. Gujarati. A little Cantonese." She sighed. "I got mugged in Nepal. I got Farsi from him and Arabic from his friend who thought grabbing my arm was a good idea." Her eyes told him not to ask if she was okay.

He whistled softly. "You're a Spec Ops wet dream, you know that?"

She smiled. "None of it does much good with the local FoH cells," she said low enough that only he could hear. Her first assignment hadn't been too fruitful, but there was no lack of FoH cells in New England and no end to the hate they spewed and the harm they caused. There was always a need for undercover work and the drive to find Storm's attackers only added to her desire to help uncover and destabilize every cell they could find.

"That what they got you doin' now? They called you back for _that_?"

He was pissed for her.

"They needed help." She said it like it explained everything. "Maybe you wanna tell me about Japan instead, sugar?" The last thing she wanted was for him to feel like he needed to stick around to protect her. She'd been down that road and it had ended in a very bad place.

"Sure. I lit out and followed the fight circuit west through Canada. Lived real rough for a while, off the land mostly. I was in a real bad place." That was putting a nice face on it. He'd turned his back on the world. "Figures, right? It was when I stopped givin' a fuck that a real lead came my way. I found out I lived in Japan years ago. Fuckin' weird feelin', but I guess it explains the Japanese you got from me. Anyway, after a chance meeting in a bar at the edge of nowhere, I wound up on a flight bound for Japan and found myself in the shit pretty quick."

"You do have a way with people," she teased.

"It wasn't all bad. Lots of it was, but not all. Some of it was pretty good."

She noticed his hand was shaking when he put his drink down.

"Logan?"

"I lost myself and found myself. You know what I mean?"

"I do." Only she'd done it in the reverse order.

"I met someone."

He'd been fully integrated into the culture by that point, his Western clothes and language long gone. The paper cranes that had lived over his heart for years sat in a pocket in his closet, gathering dust. That had been the first step. Finding a sensei had been the next. When he'd found balance, love had followed. It had been tender and soft, a pure thing without any taint of desperation or even the violent catharsis that had lingered in his long-ago connection with Marie.

"I'm glad." It hurt, but she could honestly say she was happy for him. "Who is she?"

"My wife. Mariko."

"You're married?" She'd never expected him to say that. The pain was bright and sharp. Her eyes jumped to his finger. No ring. That wasn't right. He was the kind of man who'd wear the mark proudly.

"I was. She died. She and the baby. Last spring." The pain changed. Oh, sugar...

"Oh, Logan. I'm so sorry." The words seemed inadequate.

"A glorious sadness. I didn't know what you meant then. I do now." His eyes were wet and he let the tears fall unashamed. Marie felt her own eyes fill. "There's more, but I can't..."

She had been poisoned with a fatal toxin that had no cure. The poison was one that would cause an excruciating death; a death Mariko had begged him to save her from. He'd been too weak to do it. She'd used the last of her energy to try to force herself on his claws and in the end he'd finished it quickly and cleanly. It had nearly driven him mad with grief.

"It's okay, sugar. You don't have to _—_ "

He took a deep breath and seemed to collect himself, scrubbing a hand over his face before meeting her eyes.

"I want to. As much as I can." He took another deep breath.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

He nodded. "She was poisoned. She and our daughter. She was only a few months along. I lost them both."

"That's awful." She took his hand in hers and he let her. Not a lifeline this time, though he recognized the familiar connection. It was still there. It was the two of them who had changed.

"It was so strange. My whole life's been a blur of years that pretty much ran together and then suddenly we were marking time by weeks. Twenty-two weeks," he said quietly.

Marie didn't know what to say. Sometimes pain went too deep for words. There was only shouldering it together. She squeezed his hand.

"Her father was a powerful man who'd made a lot of enemies. Now he's got a few less."

Marie started at him, hardly able to comprehend what he was saying. He was remarkably composed compared to how he'd been after Jean's death.

"You're different this time," she offered carefully.

"No. I'm the same. I just have balance now."

"I'm so sorry about your family. You'd have made a really good father." He'd probably been a good husband too, but she couldn't force those words out, even now. Maybe after a few more years at the monastery. Logan had made a child with someone in love. That seemed so terribly final.

"Thanks, kid."

"So what are you going to do now?"

He shrugged. "What I'm best at." There was a coldness in him and she understood all the rage and darkness in him wasn't gone. He had balance but not peace. He'd simply honed it into a fine point. It was...terrifying. She had the sense that it was only his personal code of honor that kept him from becoming the blackest beast the world had ever seen.

Marie could see he needed the space of a change of topic. She'd never seen a man bleed so quietly. Her heart ached for him.

"About that... I need training."

"Don't look at me, darlin'. I hung up my teachin' certificate a long time ago."

She laughed. "Not that. God. Can you imagine us now?" They'd kill each other for real this time.

His lips twitched but the amusement didn't touch his cold, dark eyes.

"I just need a name. A contact. Some place to start." She knew he'd know who to send her to. She had decades of his memories as a mercenary, glimmers of things she'd never really wanted to look at too closely. But that world changed too quickly for any of those old memories to be of use to her now.

"Why?"

"Because I'm in over my head. The stuff Scott and Storm taught us isn't enough. Not anymore. I'm going to get myself killed, or worse _—_ get someone else killed because I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

He grunted.

"Look, you know me. You know I'll do it on my own if I have to. It'll be clumsy and ugly, but I'll get it done. You know I will." He knew. She was damned stubborn. Always had been. "All I'm asking for is a name."

"What is it you wanna know? Demolitions? Counterterror? Hand-to-hand? Small arms? What?"

Everything. Somehow she knew that wasn't the right tack to take. He'd dismiss her out of hand.

"Just the basics for now. I'm not looking to be an assassin or anything. I mean, come on. This is me we're talking about here. I don't even like spiders. Can you really see me crawling through the jungle with a gun?" That earned her a grin. She shrugged. "The world is just different now."

Logan sighed inwardly. No it wasn't. She just wasn't seeing it through the eyes of a child anymore.

He'd waited so long for her to be here. It was disconcerting to find he didn't much like it now that she was.

He gave her a name. "Tell 'em Patch sent you." That name would open any door she wanted.

"Patch?"

"I've got a lotta names, kid. Lived a lotta lives I'd rather you didn't know about."

"You told me about the one in Japan," she finally offered.

"Yeah. I did."

That was the best one.

* * *

 


	7. The Gift

Logan dropped into the chair in his room, his mind still spinning after spending an evening with Marie for the first time in years. It had been so good to see her. To talk to her. A lot about her was different, but she was the same in all the ways that mattered. Except for her hair. Goddamn, he just couldn't get over that short spiky hair.

He'd always loved her hair. It had been so long and thick, shining around her shoulders in smooth waves. Something primal in him had recognized it as a sign of fertility and youth. The white streaks were his favorite, an outward symbol of their connection that night in the torch. She had died. He had given her life.

It wasn't that he didn't like short hair as much as it was that he'd been disturbed by the idea of her cutting the symbol of that bond with him.

Even so, it was only hair. It was the woman inside who he'd missed. They'd had a good long talk. He'd loved hearing about Tibet and though it had been difficult, sharing with her about Japan had brought him an unexpected peace. Mariko would have wanted that for him and it felt good, felt right to share her story with Marie, the only other woman in this life who'd ever loved him enough to see that the man who always healed carried scars on the inside, and sometimes even he needed to be tenderly sheltered from the pain.

Her tongue had been sharp in the teasing way he enjoyed and her smile had been a little distant, but still bright and engaging. He hadn't enjoyed an evening so much in years. It had been hard to say goodnight. Sharing the burden of his story had made it a little lighter and he'd taken pleasure in the memories she'd stirred in him and in her easy company.

She'd been awkward at the end of the night as they'd walked out together. Her heartbeat had been fast and a little wild as she'd stepped closer to him. For a moment he thought she might hug him goodbye and then she'd pressed an old, worn envelope into his hand instead.

"What's this, kid?"

"It's a present from Tibet."

"Really?" He was kind of surprised by that.

"It's... well..." she was all shifty and nervous. "I don't know if it's a good gift, really. It's- it's okay if you don't want to keep it. It suddenly doesn't seem like it was the right choice."

Now he was really intrigued.

"Thanks, darlin'. I'm sure I'll like it real good, whatever it is." She did not look convinced.

He looked at the envelope again, curious. He didn't get many presents. This was the first in years.

"Open it later, okay? I just, well... just thought it belonged with you."

She'd driven away after a quick goodbye and he'd shoved the envelope into his pocket. Now, in the quiet of his room, he dug it out and turned it over in the wan, artificial light. He wondered what was in it. A letter maybe?

He sucked in a hard breath when he opened it and saw a long, shining lock of her hair, some chestnut, some silver, coiled in a slender circle.

Unexpectedly, he felt tears sting his eyes. How had she known? So much water had passed under the bridge, they were both so different now and yet she still knew how to read his unspoken needs and soothe his silent hurts. He was humbled by the precious gift.

It felt like the softest silk under his fingertips. It was softer still against his lips.

Almost without conscious thought, Logan retrieved the two paper cranes from his wallet. He didn't carry them in the pocket over his heart anymore, but they were still always on him somewhere, a talisman of sorts. A touchstone to replace the tags; a light in the darkness and a balm to his soul on more nights than he could remember. They were all that had held him to this world after Mariko died.

He set the two folded cranes on the desk. They were both battered and worn, spattered and stained dark with his blood from countless injuries over the years. He had touched them both a thousand times. The larger, white crane had taken more damage and was more fragile. The smaller green crane had fared a little better, the paper was a little sturdier and the folds a little more crisp. He liked the way the pair looked together; one a little beat up and worse for the wear and one jaunty, with attitude. They had personality and character, his only two loyal friends.

Seeing them next to the lock of hair gave him an idea. His hands moved reverently, slowly and with great care as he gently unfolded the larger crane. He stroked the silky lock of her hair one more time and then placed it on the paper and carefully refolded the crane with the lock of hair tucked safely inside.

It somehow seemed right to put the one gift inside the other and the larger crane was sturdier now, bolstered and reinforced from within. The thought made him smile.

He put them to his lips, eyes closed as was his habit, and then he slipped them both inside the small paper envelope and tucked it back into his wallet. Having it there settled something in him that had been growling deep and low for a long time. The gift wasn't an answer. He didn't even think it was a peace offering.

But it was a beginning.

The first step on a long road back.

**~ooOoo~**

Logan was thankful for the new balance in his life that his years in Japan had taught him. Living at the school had never been easy. It was harder now in some ways than it ever had been before, even though Marie no longer lived there. He wondered how much of that was really to keep a low profile for her undercover work and how much was because she needed the space.

Once this place had felt - not like home, exactly - but at least welcoming and relatively safe. It felt too small now that he'd known a much larger slice of life; physically, emotionally, geographically. He wondered if it was that way for Marie, too. What had it been like for her to give up the freedom she'd found in Tibet for the responsibilities and rules of this place? The idea of a private apartment instead of a room at the school appealed to him too, but that seemed too permanent somehow. He hadn't intended to stay indefinitely. He wasn't quite passing through, either. He owed a debt and Storm would collect it in the Professor's absence.

The school was the same in many ways. Full of the busy trample of feet and the incessant chatter of dozens of kids who were never truly silent. The scents were the worst; an unpleasant cocktail of perfume and sweat and raging, hormonal teens. It was a unique blend of bravado and insecurity underscored with unrequited feelings, unsatisfied lust and the furtive musk of solitary release. For a man who experienced the world very much through scent, it verged on actual physical discomfort. In general he didn't much like other people and he really didn't like them in groups. Those feelings were tempered, softened by the fact they were children and that most of them seemed to genuinely like him despite his gruff exterior. That part didn't unsettle him as much as it used to now that he could imagine his daughter's face among them.

Meditation was a welcome escape from the overwhelming barrage of sensory input. He began and ended most days that way now, on his knees in silence, listening within to a part of himself that had blossomed in Japan. The boundaryless feeling made his grief sharper at first, but through breath and stillness he was able to think of small things that soothed his tired, ragged heart. Northern lights rippling over a fresh snowfall... the wind in his face... the sharp, coppery tang of blood on the air... Marie's warm brown eyes and wry smile.

He had been startled the first time she appeared to him in that place. Long ago, her image used to bring him comfort; that expressive face of hers asking him if it hurt when the claws came out. That memory felt so far away now, that old life where the only peace he'd ever found was when thoughts of her pulled him from the wreckage of his silent reverie. Even then as a shadow in his mind, she'd had the power to lift him from the darkness and bring an empty weightlessness he'd so desperately needed, but it had always come with a price; dark feelings of guilt and shame for wanting things she didn't even have the capacity to consent to, never mind understand.

It was surprising to realize that he could think of her now and simply be soothed by her, without all the baggage from their previous interactions. They'd grown beyond running, beyond the reach of ugly whispers about the nature of their relationship. The eyes on them at the roadhouse bar had been jealous, not accusatory, and that had felt damned good to have his enjoyment of her not painted in sinister, pedophilic overtones. They'd just been two friends having a drink.

He'd waited a long time for that, though as good as it was, it was still a little painful. She'd grown up and they'd grown apart. He missed her innocence and was surprised to realize the loss of it disappointed him somehow. She was still that kid who'd brazened her way into his truck so long ago, but now she was also something... _more_. And the more he thought about that, the more he liked it. The idea grew on him as the weeks passed.

Something in him had needed to tell her about Japan and Mariko and his child. He knew she'd feel more sympathy than jealousy, and she of all people would understand how that experience had changed him. She would understand the meaning of him telling her about it all. She'd always been his safe place to fall. He'd been that for her too. And even now, even with all that had passed between them, they still had that. In some ways, they were still the only place the other could go with certain things.

Two weeks became four and then six. He had not expected his work at the mansion to help soothe the sting of old hurts and yet for some inexplicable reason, the pain eased with each day he spent surrounded by the children. He rarely saw Marie. Their work kept them busy and on the rare occasions he did run across her, she was soft with him, but distant, and he became aware while she was willing to entertain his tentative overtures and even accept the pieces of himself he was willing to share, she kept herself closed off and offered little of her private self in return. He understood that distance was a direct result of choices he had made, but he still found it frustrating. Above all, that was the one fence he wanted to mend.

He retreated into meditation, and yet even that place wasn't truly an escape. Part of the balance he had learned had come from embracing the animal within. Locking that part of himself away had only served to fuel the rage and hatred that burned within him. When you cage a thing, all it wants is escape, by whatever means necessary.

Here he had learned to exist as one seamless, complete being. Not wholly a man or an animal, but one consciousness. One voice. It hadn't been an easy or enjoyable process and he was only beginning to learn how to extend that union outside meditation, but it was a tentative start. On the surface, it seemed to make no sense. Embrace rage to find peace and yet he had felt the tide turn with those first terrifying waves of acceptance.

He was so tired of fighting. They both were.

On that they were in perfect agreement. Happiness was not for them, but they were stubborn enough to still hope to earn a shot at finding a small sliver of peace.

**~ooOoo~**

Logan liked working on engines. The simple work occupied his hands and let his mind drift. He was underneath one of the school's vehicles changing the oil when he had his first conscious fantasy about Marie. It was relatively tame as his fantasies went. A stray thought about what it would be like to be in the wind with her, her arms around him, a bike rumbling powerfully under them and a long empty stretch of open road. It was hazy and indistinct. He didn't really have a plan or destination in mind, though when they reached that unnamed place, his thoughts took a sudden, explicit detour. Her taste. Her scent. Her body under his, slick with want. Knees up high, inviting him to go deep. His body had an immediate reaction and he was surprised by the intensity of it. It was strange and nice and he found himself smiling up at the underside of the vehicle for no particular reason other than sometimes it was just damned pleasant to have a hard-on over a pretty girl.

"Come on. I think it's empty."

"Yeah, come on. Don't be such a baby. We're alone."

"You don't have to sound so disappointed."

"Admit it. You were sort of hoping you'd run into _him_ here."

"Can you blame me? He's fucking hot."

That broke them all up.

"Here. It'll be fine. Nobody will find us."

Logan's smile faded as his quiet solitude was interrupted by the hushed voices of three giggling teen girls. He was on the far side of the garage under a car and they hadn't noticed him, but the concrete and the acoustic nature of the structure coupled with his gifts made it sound as if they were whispering directly in his ear. He could smell them too. They were distinctly different. The loudest one smelled of artificial strawberries, probably cheap lip gloss or bubblegum. The second stunk of cigarette smoke, mouthwash and the electric musk of ejaculate. Blowjob was his guess. The third one's scent was cloyingly floral with undertones of chocolate and old blood.

Just perfect. Hormonal teenagers with PMS. Why the fuck were they here interrupting the holy communion of man and engine?

The flick of a lighter echoed in his ears and his nose twitched as the very distinctive smell of pot wafted his way. His eyebrow rose. He should probably get up and say something, but he couldn't really be bothered. They weren't hurting anyone and he was probably the last person who should criticize that choice given his colorful past.

"Mmm... this is really good."

"See. I told you. It's no big deal."

Blowjob was obviously their little ringleader. Nice. He wondered if that was what she'd given in exchange for the pot. That's where he'd put his money. She was certainly a real prize.

"Well give me a turn, then. God, this is almost as good as watching him work out that one time. Those arms! Can you imagine them around you?"

"I'd rather imagine them holding me down. Or up against the wall."

"No joke."

Logan wondered which one of the little dipshits had caught their eye. They all looked like babies to him.

"For sure. He's, like, so totally yummy."

"Amen, sister. Even with all the hair. And that ass? .God!"

"I agree. That man is one hundred percent Grade A Prime Canadian Beef."

What the fuck?

"Did you see him after that Danger Room session with Colossus? In just the jeans and boots with his tank torn to ribbons? I almost had an orgasm."

Now he remembered her. She'd smelled like desperation and trouble, wet with lust and she'd all but devoured him with her eyes. Definitely still a kid, but some of them climbed aboard the express train to Slutsville early on and never looked back. He hadn't been the slightest bit interested. In fact, her lewd attention had turned his stomach.

"Oh yeah. I was ready to lick the sweat off him, girl."

"The line starts behind me..."

They all broke into another round of giggles.

Jesus. Three little cage bunnies in the making, right there. He was wiping off his hands and preparing to slide from under the car when he heard something that made his breath catch.

"Do you think the rumors about him are true?"

"That he has a horse dick?"

Logan rolled his eyes. Part of him enjoyed the compliment, however crass. The other part of him recoiled because it had come from a bunch of kids. What the hell? Was that what passed for girl talk these days? He made a face.

"Not that one! Though I'm sure that's true. Have you seen him in the leather? He's definitely packing. My guess is a solid eight. Uncut. But I mean that one about him and Rogue. I heard they were lovers back when she was a student here."

"No way! I thought he was banging Dr. Grey. That's what I heard."

"Maybe he was doing them both."

"Get out! Dr. Grey? No way. I heard he was totally into Rogue." That was Bubblegum again. She seemed marginally better than the other two. "Like he saved her life and all and gave her his dog tags. That was kind of romantic, don't you think?"

Logan hated hearing those girls talk so casually about things that were deeply private.

"She was totally jailbait. It was probably guilt and not love. I heard he claw-raped her."

What? He couldn't possibly have heard that right.

"He what?"

"You know. His claws. Just like a boner, right? He gets excited and out they come... a little violent catharsis and in they go again... It's not really that different, except, you know, they're not as messy." Blowjob would know, clearly.

Over the years, he'd heard a lot of unsavory things while listening hidden in the shadows, but this was the first time it had been personal. Her crude assessment sickened him. Was that what people really thought of him? For years he'd wrestled with being a thing, an experiment, an animal... but this, this was something different. Something darker. An ugly look at himself through a new lens. He'd never thought of his claws like that. As a symbol of male primacy, maybe, but never as a phallic metaphor. Jesus.

He wondered how Marie had ever seen through all of that. He hadn't been worthy then and he still wasn't now, but he was profoundly thankful she'd been able to look past whatever parts of him made people think such awful things.

"I don't know. I think it would depend on how he used them."

"I've definitely got some ideas."

"Oh, please. You couldn't handle a man like that even if he did give you a shot."

"Like you could? Come on."

"Hey, do you think that's why he came back? They say Rogue's been gone for a few years and he turns up a few months after she gets back? That sounds pretty hinky to me."

"Me too."

"I don't know. I met her the other day. She was kind to me. Quiet but strong without being a bitch, you know?" Okay, he might let that one live.

The others made ass kissing sounds.

"Come on you guys, stop it."

"Do you think he gets off on it?"

"On what, claw-raping little girls?"

Part of him was horrified. The other part of him wanted to give that snarky little bitch a personal demonstration of the claws in action. Let her see just how messy they could be.

"I don't think so. I don't think he's like that. He was nice to me the other day in the den. He explained icing like three times before I could really see what he was talking about with the puck." Now he had a face for Bubblegum. God, she couldn't be a day over fourteen.

"Pfff. Rogue got stabbed alone in his room. At night. You do the math."

"You have to admit. That does sound bad. Why else would she be there?"

"Well, we all know why _you'd_ be there..."

"I fucking wish."

Not in a million goddamn years. The idea made his skin crawl. Even if she wasn't jailbait, he wouldn't fuck her with someone else's dick, much less his own.

"Do you think it was an accident? Like maybe the claws came out when he came? Or do you think he asked her for something she didn't wanna do and he got pissed when she resisted? He seems like the type to be into some pretty kinky shit and she was only seventeen."

What the fuck? He was stunned and horrified. Of course there had been a few rumors back in the day, but he'd never imagined anything like this.

"So? I'm sixteen and I'd totally do him. I'd do anything he asked. _Anything_."

Logan grimaced.

A different set of heels clicked sharply on the smooth concrete.

"Rogue slept with Kitty and me in my room. Every night. All night." Jubilee's voice was sharp and more than a little pissed. "She walked across the hall to wake him up from a nightmare because she's a good friend."

"Musta been some kinda nightmare." Little Miss Nasty Mouth wasn't quite done.

"It was. You think metal claws are a natural mutation? Someone did that to him against his consent, so if you want to talk about rape, you can start there." He was surprised to hear Jubilee defend him.

There was a chorus of apologies and placations.

"Shut it. Now. I don't want to hear another word. Give me the joint and don't let me catch you with one again or I'll paff all your asses and then I'll start in on your shoes."

There was another round of "Yes, Miss," from the girls and the shuffling of feet as they rounded up their stuff.

"It's one thing to be stupid enough to smoke it, but to get caught? Rookie mistake. I'll have three pages from each of you on the dangers of gateway drugs on my desk tomorrow morning at eight."

They started whining.

"And three more on the subject of the emotional trauma of rape. If I hear so much as a peep out of any of you, you can add another three pages on the subject of malicious gossip and the harm it can cause others. Do I make myself clear?"

They nodded and left quickly and quietly.

Logan slid from underneath the car and stood silently, his face an unreadable mask. If he wasn't so disturbed over what he'd just heard, he would have been amused at the idea of Jubilee handing out punishment for gossiping of all things. That was the textbook definition of irony.

"I take it you heard all that?" Jubilee walked over to him.

"Every word."

"Shit," she said, taking a deep drag off the blunt before offering it to him with a sparkle in her eye.

He took it from her outstretched fingers and drew in a few much-needed lungfuls of the calming herb before passing it back to her to finish off, watching as she took one last drag and then pinched it out between her fingers.

"Was it like that before?"

"Before?"

"All the times I left. After the Statue? After Alkali Lake? Is that the kinda nasty shit they said to her?"

"Don't delude yourself, sunshine. It's still like that _now_. Why do you think Rogue doesn't want to live here?"

That rocked him back. He didn't even know what to say to that revelation.

"There's no statute of limitations on the bitchiness of teenage girls, Logan. They are cruel and relentless and there's always more waiting in the wings."

"She never said." Not once.

"Why would she? The claws can't fix everything, you know." His eyes narrowed at her. "You were too busy trying to get into Jean's pants to hear it anyway."

Anger and pain followed her words. He hurt for Marie and he was furious with himself for not realizing how bad it would have been for her. He should have known she'd receive the brunt of it. He'd heard rumblings, and been on the receiving end of a few disapproving stares, but nothing like what those girls dished out tonight. Christ, they were like she-wolves with cell phones. Vicious and bloodthirsty and completely without remorse. Of course they'd go harder on her. She was the easier target by far.

A growl rose in his throat.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Save it. It's too little, too late." Jubilee walked away and then turned and tossed over her shoulder. "You had your shot and you didn't pick her. You should move on, dude. She has."

**~ooOoo~**

A month later he ran into Marie at a rough biker bar she had no business knowing about, let alone looking so comfortable in. He was there to fight. She was at the bar, drinking longnecks with a human man who had to be at least fifty. He had silver at his temples and more salt than pepper in the heavy stubble on his face. His hair was cut short and the way he held himself said he was ex-military or a retired merc or both. He was dressed the way pretty much all the patrons were; jeans, boots, t-shirt, leather jacket.

Marie was dressed the same, plus long brown gloves and more than a little cleavage. Nothing like the cage bunnies, but definitely enough to get his attention.

The man's hand was on her thigh and from the easy way she wore it, it wasn't the first time.

Worse still was the expression on her face when she looked into his eyes. There was real affection there. Maybe even love.

"Marie?"

She didn't even turn around but her body language said she'd heard him just fine. He stepped closer.

"Whatcha doin' here, Rogue?"

He saw her eyes widen briefly.

Did he just ask her that sounding like her father?

Her eyes slid over. "I'm on a date."

"With him?"

"Yes. With him. You know I like my men with some miles on them," she added tartly. "What are you doin' here beside being incredibly rude and interruptin' my evenin'?" Her accent was always thicker when she was pissed.

"Fightin' later."

Marie moved in closer to the man sitting next to her and put her gloved hand on his arm. "Richard, this is Logan. He was just leavin'."

"Logan." Richard held out his hand.

"Dick." Logan stared with his arms folded across his chest.

Shrugging, Richard put his hand back on Marie's thigh.

"I get it. You're a hard man, right, son?"

Son? His brow arched.

Richard caught Marie's eye. "You know this guy, honey?"

Marie nodded. "I used to. A long time ago." She finished her beer. "Excuse me, but I need the ladies'. If there's gonna be blood, clean it up before I get back." She turned to her date. "Play nice, sugar, and don't hurt him too bad or I'll never hear the end of it."

They both watched her walk away. Logan still thought she had a damn fine ass. Apparently he wasn't the only one.

Richard eyed him up and took a long pull off his beer. "You got something to say, then either say it or take a swing, boy." Well, hell. That surly, cocksure bastard had some balls. He reminded Logan a bit of himself. Or what he might have been fifteen years on if he was the kind of person who could grow old with her.

"I won't lie. Both crossed my mind, old man."

"We both know you could probably put me down pretty hard, but it wouldn't be anything close to what she'd do to you after."

Logan took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "That's the fuckin' truth." That one simple statement also told him more about the intimate nature of their relationship than he ever wanted to know. There was only one way a man knew that much about a woman's skin.

"You got that look on ya."

"What look is that, bub?"

"She the one who got away?"

"No."

She was the one he threw away.

"You don't sound too sure."

"I've known her since she was just a kid. Just never thought I'd find her in a place like this."

The tension left Richard's body at that. That was altogether different and he could empathize. He'd been there before.

"So it's like that, huh?"

"Hmph."

"That's a long damn time to carry a torch, son. You best let her go before it burns you up."

"Tried that. Didn't work."

"Well, I don't feel too sorry for you. You can't be the sharpest tool in the shed if you threw away a good woman like that. I know I won't get to have her for long, but I aim to savor it while I do. Now fuck off already. She don't needta see you cryin' into your beer."

He melted away into the shadows.

The fights were long and bloody and she was gone before they started. He won, but he let them beat the shit out of him first and none of it hurt as bad as watching her walk out of there with her arm around that dick and his hand at the small of her back.

* * *

Up next: **The Firecracker**. Jubes has a few things to say. (It's a good thing Logan heals - just sayin'!) Marie and Logan play phone tag. Logan finally convinces her to have another drink with him...


	8. The Firecracker

It was almost a year before Logan saw Marie again. He had just returned from overseas. He was doing mostly freelance work, but he occasionally worked a job or two on the side for the ones Charles had left behind.

Her appearance startled him once again. This time it was jump boots, fish nets, a pink tutu and the black satin corset that threw him. The fuchsia gloves were an interesting addition to her ensemble, but it was the corset that kept drawing his eyes back... and down. Her hair was a little longer now, brushing her chin and she'd dyed the white streaks a screaming magenta. There was a piercing in her eyebrow and if he wasn't mistaken, she had one in her tongue, too.

"Halloween come a little early this year, kid?"

She turned and smiled at him but didn't open her arms for a hug. He understood why she didn't, but it still stung.

"Nah. It's just work. Not one of my better assignments, but I'll live." A container of Cure vials had surfaced and a gang of wild kids were using them to randomly stab mutants in the city. During the commute. At clubs. At the mall. Not the most exciting assignment, but at least nobody had died.

"You should take that metal shit outta your face."

That made her laugh and stick her tongue out at him. "The guys like it."

"This one don't."

She waggled her eyebrows at him. "The girls do too..."

He didn't touch that one because he couldn't tell if she was teasing or not.

"Storm still got you undercover? I thought you'd be done with that shit by now."

"You know there's always another job."

True, that.

"Hmph."

"How are you, Logan?"

"Fine. You know me. Same shit different day. It's all good as long as there's a few less assholes around at the end of it."

"Amen to that, sugar."

"I heard you were seein' the Cajun now," he said into the silence when he realized she wasn't going to offer more than that.

"Off and on."

Her noncommittal answer annoyed him.

"You used to be a straight shooter with me, kid."

"You used to want me to be."

She fired that one straight back.

"What happened to Richard?"

"He's gone."

"Gone?"

His voice had that tone. The condescending paternal one that pissed her off.

"Yeah. I gave him a heart attack in bed," she snapped.

"What?"

"Jeez, Logan. Lighten up. He's gone, not dead. He was just passing through. It wasn't a picket fence kind of relationship. I'm sure you can relate." That wasn't quite the truth, but she didn't owe him her secrets anymore. Richard had deserved to be loved for himself, not because he reminded her of another man.

His eyes glinted but he moved the conversation to safer ground, aware he was treading on thin ice as it was.

"You gettin' any trainin' in between assignments?"

"A little on the side. Not enough."

They both knew the kind of training she was after wasn't the kind you got over a weekend. It was the kind you slogged through over a few months in some remote armpit of the world.

"You wanna have a drink later?"

She stared at him with unblinking eyes. "No thanks."

"Why not?" He wasn't asking her to elope. It was just a fucking drink.

"Because it hurts too much." Her brittle mask had fallen away. The answer was painful and honest and left her feeling terribly vulnerable.

"You don't think it hurts me too?"

"The difference is that I still feel the pain, Logan."

That was an unpleasant truth. He'd become inured to it over the years.

She was on a dangerous path and he wondered how long it would be before she stopped feeling the pain too.

**~ooOoo~**

The next time he called the school, he got Jubilee again and felt his blood pressure climb before he'd said ten words to her.

"What do you want, Wolvie? Rogue's not here to play happy families with you today."

He rolled his eyes.

"Where is she this time?"

"Nicaragua."

He didn't ask what was in Nic. He knew. Fucking hard training at that camp.

"How long?"

"Few months now. She didn't tell ya, hmm?"

"Hmph."

"I was right, wasn't I? About her kicking you to the curb."

"Just tell her I called, huh?"

"Whatever, dude."

He hung up.

**~ooOoo~**

He got Jubilee again the next time he called. The fucking universe really had it out for him.

"Christ. Doesn't someone else ever answer this phone?"

He could hear her pleased smile. "Nope." She popped her gum and he wanted to throttle her. "We're short staffed as usual. Being a superhero sucks ass. Not a lot of hands in the air for the job, you know? The uniform is pretty cool though. You can call me Mistress Jubilee."

"Hey, just go get her or tell me where the fuck she is. I don't wanna dance with you today."

"Too bad, sweetie. I do a mean rumba."

He growled.

"Yeah, like that'll work. You're seriously hot an' all, but being able to speak at least one human language is like my bare minimum. Grunts do not work. So, use your words and your inside voice if you wanna know something."

"Listen, firecracker-"

"Aw... you're no fun. And she's not here."

"Where this time?"

"She wouldn't say. Stormy didn't like it, the Cajun didn't either... but Rogue, she does what she wants these days."

"Fuck."

"Agreed. Mucho fucks all around."

"You'll tell her I called?"

"Yeah."

"You tell her I called before?"

"Yup."

"And?"

"And what? You think she likes it? You shit all over her. Broke her heart and fucked her up in all kindsa ways I'll never even tell you about. And for what? You got so many people who love you that you can just throw one away?"

"Jesus. Tell me what you really think, huh?"

"I'm angry."

"No shit."

"At her too. She left me a number to pass along to you this time."

His stomach flipped.

_What?_

"If you're fuckin' with me-"

"I wish I was. Believe me."

He took down the number and hung up, shaken.

Nothing made sense anymore.

**~ooOoo~**

It took him a few weeks to screw up the nerve to call her. One night, at the end of a shitty job that left him feeling empty and burned up, he called her.

" _Marhaba_."

Hello to you too, darlin'.

"It's me, kid."

"Logan?"

"Yep. Can you talk?"

"Sure. The helo just landed. It needs a bit of work. We're outbound again as soon as repairs are done, but it'll probably be a while."

He frowned.

"Where the hell are you this time?" Although he had a pretty good guess after the way she'd answered her phone. He knew a little Arabic, too.

"Basecamp." He could hear the smile in her voice and knew she wouldn't say. Good on her. She was learning. "You remember that movie we were all watching in the den when Jubes spilled her drink in your lap?" He did. A Big Gulp's worth of frozen Slurpee to the genitals had a way of doing that to a man, healing factor or not. They'd been watching the opening scenes of Rambo III.

Jesus, she was in Afghanistan?

"Shit," he intoned softly.

"Hey, if you wanna learn, you gotta go where they're playing with the big toys. Where are you?"

"Madripoor."

"Mmm... the rainy season, too. Sounds like fun."

"It's a party every night. You know me."

It was a miserable, endless, shitstorm.

"What's up?"

"Nothin'. Does somethin' have to be up for me to wanna know you're alive?"

"I guess not. I'm just surprised, that's all."

"You could call me too, ya know. Let me know you're still breathin'."

"I don't have your number." She paused. "Well, I do _now_." He could just picture her, smiling at him, all sass and that goddamn pouty mouth of hers.

"Storm's had it for a coupla years now."

"Oh."

He could tell by the tone in her voice that the thought had never even occurred to her.

Well, wasn't that a kick in the chest?

Not only did she have a life that didn't revolve around him, he was so far on the periphery that he didn't even show up on her radar at all. Nice. He hoped it wasn't too late to change that.

"Sorry. I didn't call to nag ya." He found himself smiling. "I'm gonna be stateside soon. Was wonderin' if you were too. I thought I'd see if you changed your mind any about that beer." It had been more than a year now. Closer to two. Did she intend to hold him at arm's length forever?

"God. You never give up, do you?"

"I'm the patron saint of lost causes, baby. And I told ya. I have fences to mend."

That was the wrong thing to say. He could hear the tension now when she spoke.

"Consider it mended, okay? You don't owe me anything. Not anymore."

"Jesus. You're not an obligation, kid. You're a..."

She waited in silence.

"... a friend," he finished firmly.

"Why did you really call?"

"Truth?"

"Yeah."

"Somethin' that little firecracker said to me last time I called for ya. I don't have so many friends that I'm willin' to lose one without a fight."

In truth, he didn't have any. He supposed his sensei counted, but that was a different sort of relationship. They were not equals in that way. How strange to want the moorings, the connections to the world he'd once wished so desperately were gone.

The paper cranes were back in the pocket over his heart. He wasn't sure what that meant.

This time he didn't try to fill the silence. He let it stretch out uncomfortably.

"I'll be home at the beginning of March for the memorial," she said at last. Every year they gathered and lit candles on the anniversary of Charles' death. "United in sadness."

"Nah, in memory of the good things, darlin'." He looked out at the pouring rain. "See you then."

**~ooOoo~**

A week later, Logan's phone trilled. The incoming message was from a number he didn't immediately recognize. He hit the display.

_Hey, sugar. I thought I'd test drive the new number I have for you. Let you know I'm still alive and moving locations. Same old game. Different sandy armpit of the world to play it in. Since we already broke camp, I can send you a few photos now of life in the old armpit. See you at the memorial._

She had included a few candid shots of her life in and around the camp. The standard shot all newbies took; in a safety harness, hanging out of the chopper with one foot on the skid, manning the door guns. Another of her with a head scarf over her fatigues, handing out supplies at an aid station with her rifle slung over her back. A hilarious one of her creeping through rough terrain in full camo paint with her weapon locked and loaded. That one was tagged: 'The spiders fear me now!'.

Logan laughed aloud. That's exactly what she'd told him she wouldn't ever do because she was afraid of spiders. Clearly she'd gotten over that fear. She better have. Afghan Camel Spiders were fucking scary. Big as dinner plates. He'd seen one eating a lizard once. He chuckled again when he got the one titled 'field shower'. It was a before and after shot of a handi-wipe. Snowy white and about the size of a large notecard. The after shot was the same wipe, looking as if she'd used it to clean the inside of a chimney. The tag said: 'And that was just my face!'.

The last one was of her and the guys around the fire in the evening. She was wearing a green kerchief and she was bedraggled and dirty. She was bundled in a shapeless coat and she had her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. Her cheeks, nose and forehead were wind-burned and reddened by the sun and her full lips were chapped and peeling a little. She was smiling broadly and her eyes were positively sparkling. She was clearly having the time of her life and she was obviously one of guys. He could see the easy camaraderie between her and the other hardened men.

The picture soothed him on a number of levels. She was safe. She was happy. She had good people who'd look out for her. And she was still taking pictures. That was a good sign. When you crossed over to the dark side, there were no more pictures. You didn't exist. You were a ghost. A phantom. An animal that killed in the night with no sound and no regret.

He knew that animal well and there were no photos of him.

He tapped back a quick message.

_Looking good, kid. I'm jealous. I haven't had a decent cup of coffee in months. My shower's better though. I win. You can keep the spiders. I hate 'em more than you. Travel safe._

Logan punched send and smiled into the darkness.

**~ooOoo~**

He didn't approach her at Xavier's memorial. He watched from the fringes, in the shadows, like always. Nobody saw him, but it felt good to be there, to be counted among those remembering the light of an amazing teacher and friend.

Marie looked different. Older in a way that was more about the miles on her soul than the number of candles on her cake. Her skin was more golden. Her face was bare of makeup. Her hair was longer, but he couldn't tell by how much. It was smoothed into a sleek knot at the top of her head. Her dress was plain with clean lines. No adornment or frivolity of any kind. Everything was efficient. No waste. Nothing extra. There was an economy of movement underscoring it all. Even the long brown gloves couldn't hide the change in her body. She was lean and toned with the kind of muscles one earned on the battlefield rather than in a gym.

She looked dangerous.

He liked it and yet, at the same time, it made him a little sad.

They met for a beer two nights later at the same roadhouse dive they'd been to last time. She looked hard and untouchable. He wondered if it was because she was trying to make a point or because she'd just packed light. His guess was the latter. Somehow, he didn't imagine she gave two shits what he thought about her appearance anymore.

Tonight it was the jump boots again. Worn fatigue pants. A black racer-back tank and black opera length gloves. She'd obviously gotten over exposing her skin in public, which meant either she felt she could confidently defend herself or she just didn't care of someone was stupid enough to touch her. It was a sobering thought either way. A flight jacket, orange inside, green outside, hung over the back of her chair. The patches caught his eye. The one that said 'Don't Eat Yellow Snow' made him smile. There was still a little Alaska left in her.

Her hair was down and longer than he thought it would be; tumbling half way down her back, thick and shiny. War paint tonight, too. Dark smoky eyes and that damned pink mouth of hers looking glossy and wet like she'd just been kissed good and hard. She had half the bar panting after her. She was the epitome of the tough girl fantasy; she might fuck you - or she might fuck you _up_. He liked a strong woman too, but he preferred a little more femininity overall. She looked like a merc. Who wanted to fuck themselves? He wanted a woman who could give him the things he couldn't and wouldn't give himself.

"Hey, kid."

Drink in hand, he dropped into the chair beside her and her eyes widened in disbelief. What? Oh. _That._ His hand raked through his hair. He'd forgotten his own change of appearance.

Marie couldn't seem to look away. His hair was long now. Past his shoulders, the wild distinctive points pulled down by the thick, silky weight of it. It was startling.

"Wow." He saw her check the slight motion of her hand that told him her first reaction had been to reach out and touch it. No hug this time either, but he'd rattled her more than he thought. That was something, at least.

"Hey, it's no pink tutu, but I only have so much to work with."

She threw back her head and laughed, a full-throated sound that went straight to his cock. He frowned. He wasn't here for _that_.

Marie smiled at him, aware of what he was not saying. He'd been working. Somewhere undercover where he'd needed to not look so much like himself. Interesting. She wondered if he'd ever let his beard grow out all the way of if he'd ever gone the other way and shaved the muttonchops off completely. It was a strange thought. She'd never imagined him clean shaven.

"Keeping yourself out of trouble, cowboy?"

"Never." His eyes flickered over her. "You look like you've been keepin' pretty busy with the trouble too."

She nodded. "Afghanistan, Iraq, South Africa, fucking Nic. Man, that place is a shithole."

He couldn't disagree.

"What happened to 'I just wanna know the basics'?"

Marie shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just good at it. I surprised everyone, myself most of all." She didn't need anyone anymore. Nobody would ever accuse her of being weak now. She'd never again be that scared starving girl, desperate for someone to wrap his strong arms around her and make it all better. The more she learned the better she felt. She soaked it up like a sponge and asked for more, especially when it was hard. She'd gone from the camp joke to earning the respect of hard men, battle-tested career hardasses like Logan. Mostly it made her feel good, but a small part of her wondered why the approval of strong men was so important to her, even now.

His eyes narrowed.

"I know what you're thinking, Logan. It's not the you in my head. It's not Erik either, or any of the others. It's all me. It's what _I'm_ good at. The languages. The tech. The job. The rush. I _like_ it."

"What happened to Tibet?"

"Maybe I'll go back someday."

_If I live._

He heard it well enough even though she didn't say it aloud. His lips thinned into a line.

"So this is what you are now? A tool for the cause?"

"You'd know," she said dryly. Like recognized like. He could take that however he wanted. He was a tool. He was also sometimes the _other_ kind of tool.

"Bullshit." He tossed back his drink. "What does the Cajun thinka this little career change of yours?"

"He's willing to take me as I am. He doesn't get a say about what I do. It's my choice. My life. I live it for me now."

_Now._

It implied that there was a time she'd lived for someone else. He cringed inwardly. They both knew who she'd meant but it didn't stop him from pressing.

"And just what do _you_ think, darlin'? This what _you_ wanted?"

She sidestepped his question neatly.

"Every cause needs a spear." In the absence of the Wolverine, the X-Men needed someone to take that place. Kitty didn't have offensive powers. Piotr was a better soldier than a commander, but he was more a brute force than finesse kind of tool. Bobby had stepped in to lead while Storm was recovering and had found his own niche. Hank was a doctor, not a soldier. Warren wasn't the battlefield type and Remy, well that old thief wore many hats, in bed and out.

"You ain't an army, kid."

Her eyes glowed. "Oh, but I _am_." She tapped her head. "I am, sugar. And every time I touch someone, every time I take them into me, the army grows."

"What happened to Marie? You leave her in some monastery in Tibet?"

"No. I left her by a lily pond in Westchester a lifetime ago. And so did you."

Pain first, great blinding waves of it and then anger, bright and hot.

"You told me not to look back."

"Then why did you? Do you think I enjoy these little chats? I'm glad you got your life together. I can even be happy for you that you moved on and found some sun on your face. But not when you come back and rub my nose in it." She downed her own drink and stood up.

"Is _that_ what you think I'm doin'?" He grabbed her arm.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, jerking free of his grasp. She was stronger than she looked.

"You gonna run and tell your little boyfriend?" His mouth twisted into a sneer. "Should I be lookin' over my shoulder?" He was standing now too, squaring off with her and breathing hard. Fucking hell, she got under his skin like nobody else. He knew just how to push her buttons, too.

"I fight my own battles now." She moved. If it had been anyone else, he'd have been able to block it, but he'd never expected that from _her_. She delivered a swift, nasty knee to the balls that dropped him like a stone.

He cupped himself with one hand, growling at her as she moved closer.

She bent to his ear. "I don't need anyone anymore. You taught me that, sugar."

This time it was Marie who walked away without looking back.

* * *

 


	9. The Ghost

Logan waited and then followed Marie back to her hotel. She was good but he was better. She never saw him. Never had an inkling of what was watching her in the dark.

She slept alone.

That surprised him. She'd been out of the country for months. Why wasn't old gumbo knocking down her door? Why wasn't she sleeping with him at the mansion? Surely the old gossip had died by now. It had been years.

She stayed in the whole next day. Probably sleeping off the last few months of training. He knew what it was like to come off a jag like that. To go and go until you had to sleep or fall over. He took a room next to hers, showered and then dressed. He'd thought about hacking a few inches off his hair, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she'd made him feel self-conscious about it.

Instead, he bought an extra large pizza and bottle of Jack, showing up at her door early enough that she couldn't accuse him of a midnight booty call. He'd long ago accepted there would never be anything romantic between them. He intended to fight for her friendship, however. She was losing herself. Couldn't she see that? It wasn't wholly altruistic. He didn't want to lose her either.

He knocked.

She sighed when she opened it and saw him standing there. "You're worse than a bad penny, sugar. I don't know why I even try."

Marie wandered back inside and he followed, kicking the door shut behind him.

"You of all people should know I never let a hit to the balls go unanswered."

His eyes slid over her. Her hair was mussed with sleep. Her scent, fresh snow and incense, was stronger now that her body was warmed by the heavy blankets and a long rest. She was wrapped in a crisp white sheet from the bed. The naked arms and legs on display suddenly stole his breath. There was sparkly green polish on her toes and it made him smile inwardly. There was still a little of his Marie left in the hardened woman she'd become.

"Hey, if you've got the stones to turn up after taking a hit like that, the least I can do is talk to you. Give me a minute, huh?"

"Sure, kid."

She grabbed her pack and headed to the bathroom.

He heard her pee and brush her teeth and hair. When she emerged she was wearing a clingy, cotton sleep top; long sleeved with a scoop neck and it fell just short of her knees. It was utilitarian, gray, and plain as hell. He still looked twice.

"What do you want?" She flopped down on the bed, looking at him expectantly.

He sat on the small loveseat across from the end of the bed and tossed the pizza down on the bed between them.

"Dinner."

"Is that all?"

"We both gotta eat, right? No reason we can't do that together."

"Um..." Her stomach growled at the mouthwatering smell. "Okay, I guess. But you're kinda cheating. You know the stomach-vote outweighs the brain-vote when people are this hungry."

"Yup. You know I never play fair."

"Punk." She opened the box, took the biggest slice and proceeded to pick off all the pepperoni.

"I thought they were your favorite?"

"I don't eat meat anymore."

"La-di-dah, baby. You a vegetarian now?"

"No, I'm a Buddhist now."

"Oh." He mulled that one over. "More for me then." He piled her castoffs onto his own piece and took a wolfish bite. He winked at her. "S'okay, darlin'. S'all about balance, right? We got one Buddhist and one carnivore. The scales are pretty even there. Good karma for the universe and extra pepperoni for me."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Fair enough."

"Hardly seems right though. You'll happily kill a man but you won't eat..." He stopped then, not quite sure what animal comprised the meat he was wolfing down.

"Pork assholes and beef rectums?" she offered with a little lift of her eyebrows.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. "Jesus. That's just wrong."

"Just trying to be helpful."

"That's the kinda help that'll get ya a claw in the ass."

"Kinky. But whatever gets you through the day, Wolverine."

They finished the pizza and moved on to the whiskey, the bottle shared between them because they both didn't like drinking out of the little flimsy plastic cups the hotel provided next to the ice bucket. He tried not to think about the fact that he could taste her on the bottle when she passed it back. The conversation was lively and easy, provided they stuck to neutral topics like work and downtime. Nothing about romantic entanglements. Nothing about the past. Or the future.

It was Marie who finally ventured outside the safe topics.

Fucking finally. Logan had been waiting for her to do that all night. He knew she wouldn't engage if he was the one to bring it up, so he'd waited. Thankfully he had a predator's patience and it was a good thing, too. He'd used all of it and then some.

"Why do you do keep doing this, Logan?"

"This?"

"Picking at this old scab."

He winced a little at her apt description.

"Truth?"

"Yeah, I'm just drunk enough to actually want to hear it for once."

"Because I miss that little spitfire who hitched a ride in my trailer."

She snorted.

"It's like you're so hell-bent on making yourself untouchable that you've forgotten you once wanted touch above all things."

"Not _all_ things."

If he was going to bring out the big guns, so was she. They both knew what she meant. He shifted uneasily. She stared at him defiantly.

"Hmph."

"I don't like the way you talk about 'Marie'. It's like you want to freeze her at seventeen. I'm twenty-six. When I was younger, all you wanted was for me to grow up. Now that I am, it seems like you'd rather have that wide-eyed little girl who followed you around like a puppy and hung on your every word. It doesn't matter what I do, it's never good enough to please you. Every time I reach the bar you've set for me, you move it again. I don't even care anymore if you never make up your damn mind. I just want to stop caring about the answer."

"It ain't like that." Not exactly, but it was enough like it that he felt pretty damn uncomfortable.

"Is that why you followed me?" She sat up off the headboard. "Is that why you knocked on my door tonight?" She was standing now. "You want a little walk down memory lane, cowboy?" Her naked fingers trailed over the dresser as she came to stand in front of him. "You want a do-over?"

She straddled his lap, one knee deep in the cushions on either side of his hips, and pressed her crotch tight to the soft bulge behind his zipper. Marie rolled her hips against him, smiling as his breath hissed between his teeth and he grew harder under her. "You wanna play what-if, sugar? Is that it?"

"No." He growled out the word. "Get off me."

And yet they were both aware his hands hadn't moved to push her away.

"I don't think that's what you want at all. I think you want me right _here_." She put her bare hands on his wide shoulders, using them for leverage as she rocked gently against him. "Don't forget I have your memories, Logan. Every naughty fantasy. Every dirty little thought..."

He didn't look away from her face. She had the most expressive brown eyes. "Baby, I bet if I could see in your head, you'd have me beat by a fuckin' mile."

"Well that'd ruin the fantasy, wouldn't it? You want perfect, innocent, little Marie who'll blush when you let her dry hump you for the first time and who'll bleed when you finally give in and take what's yours. Instead _this_ Marie bled for Scott in a night of shared pain just before Alkali lake, the redux, and then she fucked her way through Indonesia from Bali to Nepal."

"You honestly think I don't know any of that?"

His words shocked her into stillness. He probably could have guessed about Bali but she was floored he'd known about that night with Scott. Nobody knew about that.

"I almost killed a man with my skin, sugar. And not by accident. It was when it was starting to flip back on after the Cure and it nearly killed him but I was too close to stop riding him until I finished coming."

"I cut a woman's neck with my claws once and licked her blood while I pounded her into the wall until we both came. You can't scare me off."

"We both know that's not true. I've scared you from the very beginning. You've done nothing but run from that." She ran her hands down his chest and back up, feeling the firm muscles bunch and jump under her fingertips.

"I ain't runnin' now." She ignored his sharp rebuke.

"I bet you're sorry you waited now, aren't you?"

"Yes," he said honestly. "And no." He'd have never found the peace, the quiet heart of his life in Japan if he hadn't. Marie and Mariko. He couldn't escape her name, even then. He was thankful for the balance he'd gained too. It was the only thing keeping him in check tonight.

"And now you're wondering what it would have been like..."

"No."

He said no but his hands found her hips and his thumbs brushed the hollows of her hip bones through the soft, gray fabric because he couldn't keep himself from touching her. Ten years from now he didn't want to look back on this night and regret another missed chance. He'd learned that painful lesson all too well. Touching him had turned her on and the warm, thick scent of her desire filled his head and left him breathless.

"Yes," she squeezed his hips with her strong thighs. "You thought of us like this, didn't you? This is what you imagined my first orgasm with you would be like, wasn't it? Me rocking on your lap just like this, all shy and unsure, moving a little but not really knowing what to do until you put your hands on me and dragged me up and down that big cock of yours."

That intense hazel gaze never wavered.

"Yes."

His hands followed her words and they both groaned as he pulled her up and pushed her back down his solid length.

"Mmmm...that would make me feel so good down there, between my legs. It'd make me want something but I wouldn't be sure what. I'd have to rub though, against that hard ridge under me that feels so good."

"Y'like it, darlin'? S'all for you." His hands pulled her closer. "Feel that? That's what you do to me, baby." He moved her again, a slow sensual drag. All the way up. Showing her how to circle her hips at the top like he would have needed to years ago, and then all the way down again, the whole time his hands on that cute little ass of hers.

God. That was getting to him.

"You're so hard." Her voice held a touch of wonder that wasn't entirely fantasy.

"Rock hard. For you."

"Just a little pair of panties between us. Not as good as skin to skin, but enough for you to feel me soak the front of your jeans. To smell me. You always make me so wet. Drenched. So slippery and hot I used to wonder if maybe I wouldn't even bleed the first time..."

"Fuck, Marie."

"And I'd be scared and excited. You'd have to work to get my legs open at all, but once you did..."

"I'd have to touch ya. Taste ya. Feel you come on me so goddamn hard your whole body shakes. You'd have called my name.. and you'd grab me tight and beg me to be inside you, baby."

"You wouldn't though. I know. Not the first time. Not even if I begged."

She was right. "Not then... but soon."

She was rocking faster in his lap and his zipper was hurting them both but neither of them cared enough to stop.

"The first one would take me by surprise. I'd have tears of wonder in my eyes and I'd shake and hide my face against you."

"Yes..."

"But once wouldn't be enough, would it? Not even the first time. Not even then."

"No. I'd hafta feel you come again, hafta show you again how damn good it could be between us. Once I started, I'd never get enough. Not ever. I'd want to hold those beautiful, brown eyes that see right into the heart of me, watch ya go over again and again..."

"But I wouldn't know what to do. I'd rock on you but I'd be lost. Help me, sugar. Show me what to do..."

He didn't hesitate to play her game. He was as caught up in the fantasy she'd spun as she was.

"Feel how I move." His hands gripped her harder, one sliding around low on the small of her back, pulling her down and into him as he ground up. "Feel it and then move with me, baby... move just how you need to. How it feels good. Do it. Work yourself on me. Don't be shy. I wantcha to like it. To get off on it- on me." Her face heated. "I gotta see that - gotta feel that. I need it. I'll make sure you go over. I'll make it real good for you."

"Oh, God..."

"I'd hafta touch you that time. Hafta put my hands on you." His hands followed the fantasy, coming up to cover her breasts. He was so close to her skin. The wide neck of her sleep shirt barely covered them and neither of them had on gloves. It was a dangerous game but they were both caught too deeply to stop. "What color...?"

There was a question in her eyes.

"Your nipples, darlin'. What color? I hafta know." His breathing was ragged.

"B _-_ baby pink. Pale baby pink."

"Show me."

It wasn't part of the fantasy, but she couldn't help herself. He took his hands away and she pulled her top down just low enough for him to see the small upturned nipples, pulled tight with desire.

His mouth flooded with a deep-seated need to lick and suck and bite. To mark her. A chain of bruises and the glisten of his saliva on her skin as he made her blood rise. Her pleasure on his tongue. He shuddered.

"Ah, Christ..."

Pulling her hands away, he jerked her top back up and put his hands back on her breasts, a little rougher, a little more wild now. And then he pinched her nipple hard. She was so sensitive. So responsive. The urge to bite her was so strong.

"God! Logan!"

"That's it, darlin'. Say my name. Say it like _that_. That's how it would be. I'd make you come so damn hard. Give you everythin' you needed." His fingers threaded in her long, shiny hair. He loved her hair so much.

"If it was real, if it had been the first time all those years ago, that's how you'd come too. Right with me. Right there under me in your jeans. You wouldn't want to scare me or make me do something you thought I wasn't ready for."

"Yeah..."

"But it would be different in your head, wouldn't it? You'd be thinking it would be okay to do a little more... just a little because I was already yours. Telling yourself I was going to be yours forever so it would be okay..."

"Oh fuck, Jesus, yes..."

"You'd think maybe pushing my gloved hand into your pants... or maybe you'd let the claws out on one hand and let me touch them while I watched you touching yourself with the other... but that's not it, is it..?"

"No," his voice was a rough whisper. She was so far inside his head, but the heat burned away any lingering shame at what she was pulling out of him.

"It's my mouth, isn't it? You'd want my mouth on you. Tasting you. Sucking you..."

"Yesss..." he shuddered hard. "I love your mouth. Always have."

She scratched her fingernails down his arms hard through the flannel, punishment for not staying within the fantasy. He growled low and rough.

"You wouldn't want a condom though. You'd want to feel me. You'd want me to taste you... You'd want me to use my scarf. The sheer one."

"The one I'd been usin' to kiss you the whole time, baby. I've wanted that for so long. Your kiss. God, that mouth just sends me..."

"I'd fumble with your belt because I'd never undressed a man before."

"Like this... Like this, baby... Touch me, I need for you to touch me... Please!" His eyes closed and his head fell back.

It was pure fantasy now. They were still fully dressed, but they hung suspended on the edge, rocking so hard together.

"I'd be nervous and excited. Wanting to give you the same pleasure you just gave me. I'd be embarrassed because I wouldn't want you to know I'd dreamed of putting my mouth on you just like this so many times... of floating the scarf down over you and licking and kissing and sucking until you finally, finally lost that damned iron control of yours."

"Oh, God... Marie!"She'd wanted _that_? Oh, Christ...

"That's it, isn't it, sugar? Just like that..."

God, yes. He was on _fire._

"Look at me. I'd need ya to look at me. You'd hafta look at me the whole time. I'd hafta have a hand in your hair, not _—_ not to guide you, just to feel you. To know it's _you_. My Marie." She understood. He'd need a physical connection with her to differentiate it from all the times other women had done that for him.

Logan planted his boots on the floor and shoved up hard. Marie whimpered against him, sweaty and wild as she ground against his cock. So close. So close now. Her fingers tangled in his long hair. That part was wrong, in the fantasy his hair was shaggy and wild not long and silky between her fingertips.

"Yes, sugar, yes... Your come in my mouth and your body shaking so hard. I make you do that. Me. That I can make a man as powerful as you shake and beg makes me feel so strong. So humbled. Come for me, sugar... I need to taste you.. need to feel you throbbing in my mouth... sliding down my throat. Just you and nobody else ever...just you...just you..."

He shoved up roughly again and she flew apart, her fingers pulling hard in his hair.

"Yes! Oh, God! Fuck me!" She shook and juddered, her head falling back as a searing heat rolled through her hot and strong. "Logan!"

"Fuck! Fuck, yes! Take all of me, baby... Oh, fuck! Fuck! Marie! Uuuunnnnh..."

Then there were no words, just low grunts of pleasure as he held her still and used her body how he needed to get off the best. His nerves were on fire. He _burned_. The hot spikes of pleasure lifted his head away. He came in fucking gallons, pushing his hips up under her again and again before he finally fell back against the cushions, spent and boneless. Pulling her down on top of him.

Even better than the almost-sex they'd just had was how it felt to have him hold her after. Those strong arms around her, cradling her close to his wide chest. The wild cadence of his heartbeat, slowing under her cheek. The rhythm of his panting breath beginning to even out and his scent, strong and wild; tobacco, leather and the crisp smell of the outdoors. He smelled like sex too _—_ sweaty, musky, satisfying sex.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"That woman you cut. Did she die?"

"No. But I wanted to."

Marie suddenly seemed to realize how open, how vulnerable she'd let herself become and she felt fear and anger rise in equal measure. Stupid, Marie. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"And what then?" she asked against his chest, gathering herself for what was coming. "What then after innocent little Marie had just come in your arms?" He was still too satiated and languid to notice the shift in her.

"Then I'd wanna do it again. I know you. You'd be curious. You'd wanna explore me and I'd letcha. Letcha burn me up with your touch and a million goddamn impertinent, naughty questions. I have the healin'. I can go as many times as you want. As many as you need, baby."

She felt the teasing, prideful rumble in his chest and the pain of it washed through her; the private glimmer of what it would be like to play and laugh in bed with this man. Teasing her about the intimate benefits of his gift. He didn't talk about that part of himself openly with anyone. Ever. It embarrassed him. God, why did he have to show her that? She pushed up to look in his eyes, hating that his words had brought a new gush of wetness between her legs. He knew, his warm lazy smile told her so.

"So what then, Logan?"

He suddenly realized she was serious.

"Then I'd take you away from there. That place was never your home. Mine neither." There were too many dark whispers for them to ever have been comfortable there. She would always be _that_ girl. And he would never escape being the man who killed Jean. He paused, but when she didn't stop him, he continued, still cautious but encouraged. "I got a place up north, a little cabin. It ain't much, but I kinda thought you and me could give the world the finger and just be happy together there for as long as you wanted me." That he said it like that, like he just assumed someday she'd outgrow her feelings for him made her hurt deep inside in places she thought long dead.

Her fingers tightened painfully on his shoulder for just a moment, for the precious few seconds before reality chased away the beautiful fantasy, and then she threw back her head and laughed. The brittle, bitter sound crashed over him like icy water. Her mocking rejection of that private dream cut him deeply.

"And you thought what? We'd have some happily ever after? That you wouldn't get tired of having to be so careful of my skin all the time? That you wouldn't find it annoying to have to be creative every time you wanted to touch me? That gloves and bodystockings and sheer scarves and condoms wouldn't get old once the novelty wore off? Because believe me, they do."

He was stunned to hear such vitriol flow from her lips.

"What the fuck are you talkin' about? Get tired of you? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." She couldn't possibly be serious.

"You're a man of deep feeling, hot-blooded and passionate. You'd hate never being able to be spontaneous, that it would always have to be planned. Who's gonna cover up what and _—_ "

"Fuck that. We didn't have a problem with spontaneity tonight, baby. I sure as hell didn't plan this and it was a fuckin' good one for both of us." The best he'd had in years.

"Ah, but you didn't touch me."

"Bullshit," he growled. "I did. Right here." He tapped her chest, right over her heart. And you did too, in here." He touched his own chest.

Her pretty face twisted in anger. "But we both know that's not enough. That would never be enough. Not for me. And definitely not for a man like you." Not for someone who loved with his whole heart.

"A man like me?" He caught her forearms in his unbreakable grip. "You mean for an animal like me, right? That's whatcha mean."

Her chin lifted defiantly. It wasn't what she'd meant at all, but it would serve her purpose well enough.

He squeezed her arms harder.

"Say it!"

"Christ, Logan! You run from that part of yourself almost as much as you run from me! You can't deny it's a huge part of you. And it's all physical, all touch and sensation and unrestrained desire. That part of you needs touch. Needs that physicality. I've seen it. I've _felt_ it. It's _in_ me. It needs to bite and thrust and hold me down and fill me with come again and again to make me feel like his. Condoms and bodystockings are never gonna work for him. You might run from that truth, but I don't."

Because once upon a time she'd wanted all those things for him and for herself, too.

"I'm more than a fuckin' animal! Jesus! Sure that part's there, but I don't run from it anymore. I embrace it. I like how he fucks too, all raw and wild, but I'm more than just that. I thought you of all fuckin' people would know that, baby. I thought you knew me. Knew the _real_ me."

"I do! I do know the real you!"

"This has been between us for years and you think that all this time I only wanted _that_? To fuck you like some kinda animal? Like I did for those other nameless, faceless women I fucked and forgot before my dick had even dried?"

That's really all she saw in him? He was deeply hurt. How could she think that? He'd died for her. More importantly, he'd _lived_ for her when all he wanted was to give up and just finally be at peace.

The rage was very close now. He could feel himself slipping, starting to lose it. Really lose it.

"Of course I know there's more to you than that, you stubborn jackass!"

"Well that's somethin', I guess." He shoved her off him.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you! The man would probably hate it even more than the animal! You'd hate never being able to touch skin to skin, to never, ever have your hands and mouth on me, to never taste me or lick the salt from my skin or suckle my breast. To never really feel what it's like to come down my throat or to come deep inside me, to fill me up and give me all of yourself."

"You're wrong. You're so fuckin' wrong, I can't even believe it. This is the shit you've been telling yourself all these years? Is that how you got this way? All cold and hard and untouchable on the inside?"

"And whose fault is that? Hmm?"

"That's bullshit. That's not on me. That's all on you, baby."

"I'm not wrong. Not even a little. I know you can be tender. I've seen that too. You're just not getting it. Fuck animal passion. I have that in me too! We'd never even be able to have tenderness. I couldn't stroke your naked back after a nightmare. We'd never be able to just fall asleep together, sweaty and tangled after making love or to hold hands or to wipe away the tears or _—_ or to make a baby or hold a child between us. You'd hate that."

And so would she.

He opened his mouth and closed it again, shocked and hurt by the blackness spewing from her, old bruises and new pain too, bright and loud. It killed him that she'd lived with this for so long.

"The cabin? Us? It's a fairytale. You'd resent me a little more every day until that glow in your heart faded." And that would kill her. "Just like you resented having to wait for me to grow up. You needed me and I wasn't mature enough to give you even a little of what you needed from me, and I don't mean sex. If you were really honest, you'd admit you're angry about that. I am! Jesus! I've never been able to be what you wanted. I'm still not, not even now after almost a decade of trying."

He recognized there was some truth in what she was saying and it stabbed into vulnerable places, ripping scabs off things not yet healed enough to withstand the stinging, open air without weeping.

"You're right."

She froze, shocked. She never imagined she might actually convince him. It hurt more than his denial. She wanted him to fight because it meant he hadn't given up. God, why did she want that? He should give up too. She had. He should be free. He shouldn't have to suffer forever just because she was, and because of _what_ she was. Why did they tie themselves up in knots when it was all so pointless?

"What?"

"You heard me. You're right, okay? It pisses me off that I've had to wait so fuckin' long for you to grow up and get your shit together. I did need you. Hell, I needed you when I woke up naked in the snow twenty-five years ago with nothin' but the tags and claws in my hands. I needed you then and I still need you now."

"Oh, God."

"What you're not gettin', kid, is that yeah, I'm pissed. Yeah, it fuckin' sucks that it hadta be this way for us... but the waitin'? It's _worth_ it. I'd wait a goddamn century for you if I had to."

Her heart was beating very vast.

"No! No-no-no!"

"See? You see? That's it right there! Right fuckin' there!" The rage that had been quietly simmering was back, riding him hard. "All this time _—_ all this time I thought it was me. That I was the broken one, the one runnin' from this... this _—_ whatever it is between us. And it's not. It's not me anymore. It's you. Jesus Christ, it's you."

"Shut up!"

"Make me."

She stood up and faced him, her hands balled into fists.

"You wanna piece of me?" He stood up too, his hair still a wild tangle from her fingers; the obscenely large wet spot at the front of his pants mocking her. "Then come take it."

He'd been expecting her to try any number of the skills he knew she now possessed. To sweep his legs. To feign one way and go another. To distract him with her body so she could get close enough to take him down. He was wholly unprepared for her to fling herself at him like an enraged woman instead of like a well trained merc.

He almost laughed when she grabbed his hair. What the fuck? She probably knew a dozen ways to bring him down and she was gonna pull his hair like a kid on the schoolyard?

And then he realized exactly who it was he'd goaded into this. And that she was coming at him with naked hands and holding nothing back. He hadn't been thinking about her gift in that way because it so rarely crossed his mind. To him she was just 'Marie'. She wasn't automatically 'Marie-with-deadly-skin'.

Oh _shit._

Instead of pulling his hair to hurt him, she grabbed him and pulled him closer, pressing her naked mouth to his in a mockery of the kiss he really wanted. The connection opened instantly and licked under his skin like molten metal, rippling and drawing. He went down hard. She didn't hang on long enough to send him into convulsions, but it would be a while before he could get back up under his own steam. He was seriously pissed, but there was also some grudging respect there as well. He'd never seen her use her gifts offensively before and as much as it sucked, he had to admire someone who could put him down so efficiently.

And then it got so much worse.

She knelt next to him on that nasty hotel carpet and laughed at him. "Look at you." Her fingers trailed up his thigh and stopped on the wet stain at the front of his jeans. "You're the fucking Wolverine for Christsake! You've had royalty and supermodels... and _—_ and goddesses." The Phoenix had definitely possessed the power of a divine being. "You expect me to believe that after all that, you'd be happy to spend an eternity coming in your pants with an untouchable piece of Mississippi trash like me?"

Her laughter was bitter and cold.

"Nnnn..."

"And even if I could somehow believe that, it still wouldn't be enough. There would always be barriers between us. You could never give me all of yourself. I could never give you all of me, and the real truth is that any less than everything just isn't enough. Not for people like us. You're not enough."

That was the blackest of lies. She was the one who wasn't enough.

She couldn't love him in half measures. It had to be everything or not at all.

"Nnnngggh!" He tried again, but he couldn't force anything out. He was too drained, an empty husk. She was so powerful.

She had to make him see that he had to stop this. He had to let go and move on for good and so she reached into her head, into the shining places that were him and pulled out the one thing she thought would turn him from her forever.

"I have it all now." God, she did. All the shimmering beauty of the man he'd become since that night in the torch. He was beautiful and flawed and so achingly honorable. He was the best of men. _Oh, sugar. I'm so, so sorry._ "I have everything. All of you in my head again. All of them, too. Innocent little Marie. Jean. Phoenix. Mariko. Your daughter. All the nameless, faceless others. I see everything. All your shame."

It was all lies.

The shame was hers alone.

He closed his eyes and wished he could close his ears and heart as well. She was eviscerating him.

"Me and Jean and Mariko. We all died on your claws. We all loved you and you killed us all." He shuddered and so did she, her insides shredding with each awful word. "Remember the lily pond? Well, now it's my turn. Let me go. Your love is going to kill me."

He couldn't move but tears were leaking from under his lashes now.

"I'd rather have the glorious sadness than the kind of love you give. It hurts less."

The light in him flickered and died. And then there was nothing but darkness.

* * *

 


	10. The Blonde

Marie stood, feeling her brain click over into that emotionless place she used for missions and assignments. Assess. Process. Formulate. Execute. Smooth, and controlled. All logic and rationality. Don't feel. Don't dwell. Just _do_. Get it done and fall apart later.

She slipped a hand up under the long hem of her sleep shirt and pulled off her panties, letting them drop by Logan's prone body. What had felt warm and sexy a few minutes ago now felt cold and uncomfortably wet. To have an intimate reminder of the things that would never be hers pressed up next to her skin was too painful to bear. She pulled on her pants and boots, quickly checking the necessities. ID. Money. Phone. Keys. Everything shoved in her small pack. She swept the room with her eyes, making sure nothing critical got left behind.

Logan watched her as best as he could from the floor, her movements quick and efficient as she passed in and out of his field of view. Whoever had taught her had done a good job. She was gone in under two minutes. He wondered if she'd left her panties behind to torture him. He wouldn't put anything past her now. The intimate scent of them together following her cruel, vicious words was a special sort of agony.

A few minutes later, he rolled to a sit, pushing his back against the wall for support. In another few minutes he could stand unsteadily. He stumbled, cursing as he sat down heavily on the foot of the bed. The panties were at his feet. He bent to pick them up, head pounding, and threw them violently across the room. They hit the mirror and fell to the counter.

With a shaking hand, he untucked the tails of his shirt to hide the wet stain at the front of his pants. Feeling it was bad enough. He couldn't stand looking at it a second longer. The pain was too sharp. With her every ugly word ringing in his head, the sight of it sickened him. Her rejection had left him shattered. Naked and raw, like that day he'd woken up alone in the snow with the claws in his hands and the tags around his neck. He felt just as lost now as he had then.

Alone. Vulnerable. Broken in a way he never had been before.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping angrily at the wetness he found there. He felt like trashing the room but didn't have the energy for it. His eyes fell on his forearm, his pulse beating strongly in the thick network of veins. The claws were out a second later. The urge to open himself up and bleed the ground red pressed in on him like a heavy wave, but this was the kind of place that had regular housekeeping. Even if he passed out, he'd heal eventually and someone would find him. He didn't need that kind of attention. He'd lick his wounds later.

Logan put the claws back in and struggled to the sink, steadier now. He splashed water on his face, the cold clearing the buzz in his brain as he met the haggard eyes of the man in the mirror. The claws came out again. This time he hacked at his hair, shearing away thick handfuls that fell into the sink like black water. Her scent clung to it.

An inborn urge to rub ashes on his face startled him as he was cutting away the last of it. Mourning, he realized. He was mourning. The claws disappeared and he stared back at the haunted face, the eyes dark with rage and hurt. He looked like himself again, the choppy wild hair that stuck up strangely and made him even more unapproachable. His gaze slid away, looking for somewhere less painful to rest. It fell on her panties. Fury and despair rose sharply. His first instinct was to sweep them into the trash along with his hair. They were already crushed in his fist, held over the trash and then he stopped.

It was the last chance. Who knew how many more centuries he might live? Maybe nothing would kill him. Could he endure eternity without ever knowing her taste? He was angry now and hurt. In a few decades it would fade and then he'd just be numb and alone. Forever alone. Someday even the paper cranes would be gone. But this... scent and taste were so strong for him. He never forgot one. Never. Nobody could ever take that from him, not even time.

He sat on the bed, slowly. It smelled like her, fresh snow and incense... and pepperoni. A sound welled up in his throat and he swallowed it down, afraid of what might follow the macabre laughter. He brought the black scrap to his face and closed his eyes. Her soft feminine scent was rich and strong. Under it he could detect a faint trace of his own intimate scent. The crotch was drenched. She had wanted him. Her body had been ready to receive his. That part hadn't been a lie. The flavor burst over his tongue, clear like a bell in crisp air, sweet and earthy. He sucked strongly and the flavor bloomed, overwhelming his powerful senses.

It made him hard again.

It made his eyes wet.

It made his chest hurt.

It was goodbye.

Rising smoothly, he walked back to the sink and with motions as calm and controlled as hers had been, he used them to sweep the hair into the trash and threw them in after.

His life had held so little brightness.

And now it was gone.

 

**~ooOoo~**

He returned to Japan.

A year passed. And then another. He lost himself in the rhythm of his life. Working. Drinking. Fucking. Killing. Covert missions and secret Ops and pain and death and misery. The darkness suited him just fine. There was no softness anymore. She'd burned the last of it out of him that night on the dirty floor of that hotel in Westchester.

In his more contemplative moments, he wondered if that was how she'd felt by the lily pond a decade ago. Cold and dead inside. No wonder she'd been so damned driven to become the Rogue in fact as well as in name.

He swallowed the blame for that too.

Her words haunted him. She had been wrong about so many things, but with time and reflection, he came to understand she'd been right about a lot of things too. Too many things.

And when he was alone, on the rare nights his hands were idle and still, he'd sometimes look down and realized he'd folded a paper crane. It made him feel foolish and yet he couldn't ever bring himself to destroy them. So he left them tucked in strange, hidden places. Between the pages of a hotel bible. Under a stone in a Zen garden. Perched jauntily along a footpath or in the middle of a worn wooden bridge.

Over time he came to realize each time he gave one away, the stones in his heart grew lighter.

Perhaps someday when a thousand forests had become paper cranes, he might find some small measure of peace.

 

**~ooOoo~**

The soft chime of his phone woke him. Nothing good ever came of calls at that time of night. He'd know. He'd made enough of them himself. The clock read 3:27 AM and a shudder ran through him, leaving a lingering sense of unease.

He checked the display and his hand started shaking.

It was Jubilee's number. There was only one reason that little firecracker would ever call him. Only one. And for one cowardly moment, he let himself imagine not answering it. Because then he could still believe he lived in a world with Marie in it.

He touched the display and put the phone to his ear. Jubilee was crying, ugly choking sobs, but she managed to push out, "Logan?"

"Is she dead?" His voice was flat and it took everything he had left to remain still and wait for the answer.

"No. No, but _—_ "

For a moment, he couldn't hear her. Relief and joy so profound it hurt flashed through him and he fell to his knees at the side of the bed.

"—but it's bad. Really bad. Maybe worse than—"

"Tell me!"

Jubilee started crying again.

"Stop. Now. Tell me before I lose my goddamn mind." Jubilee had said that what had happened was maybe worse than death. His mind raced with all the horrors he'd ever seen and he felt the bile rise at the back of his throat. Had she been tortured? Burned all over? Lab fuckers got her? Magneto? Raped with a knife and left to die? Brain dead? "Basics first. Then details." He knew how to deal with people in shock.

He heard her take a deep breath and then let it out shakily. "She had a psychotic break during a mission. She's in one piece physically. We had to sedate her. She's unconscious in the medical wing with Hank and Bobby."

Oh, thank Christ.

"Details now."

She started crying again.

"Don't think about her. Just tell it like a story that happened to someone else, slow and easy, honey." He kept his voice pitched low and soft, but only because that was the quickest way for him to get the information he needed. He didn't feel like being soft. He felt like shouting the sky down.

"It was a mission. Just a routine skirmish with the Brotherhood. Walk in the park, right?" She sniffed. "We were all doing our usual thing, kicking ass and looking good doing it," her voice caught on a laugh and she choked back a sob, "And then this crazy blonde crashed the party and started kicking everyone's ass. It was just, unreal... like so totally—"

"Focus."

"Like something from TV. Not like any mutant any of us had ever seen. Nothing stopped her. Nothing. I'm not even sure you could've. Rogue took off her gloves and—"

A shiver ran through him so hard it raised goose bumps over his body and he suddenly knew where this was going with sickening clarity.

"You know she's kind of a badass now. She walked right over there like she was out for a Sunday stroll, calm as anything. I think maybe the blonde thought she was surrendering because her hands were up and she wasn't fighting or running away... and then she just reached out and put her hand on the blonde's arm and then all hell broke loose. The blonde went crazy, but you know how Rogue's gift is..."

"Yeah. You're not done 'till she is." He remembered just fine.

"Yeah. The blonde tried to get away, but Rogue, she hung on and that's when it got weird."

_That's_ when it got weird?

"Then Rogue started screaming and then the blonde one was the one who wasn't letting go, even though we could tell she was dying and Rogue seemed to almost be, I don't know— like pulsing or glowing with power, all ripply and shimmery under her skin. It was freaky."

He'd seen that once, too. That's how Jean had looked that night on Alcatraz.

Aw, Christ, kid. What did you do?

"By the time we got them apart, the blonde was dead and Rogue was totally out of it. She was speaking another language."

"That's — that's normal. She does that."

"You don't understand. I mean like another language. It didn't even sound like a human language."

"Shit."

"Shit sandwich without the bread, yeah." She took a breath and Logan could tell she was on the verge of tears again. "She's never done that before. Never killed anyone with her skin, I mean. We got her out of there pronto. Hauled our sorry asses to the Blackbird and got her home to Hank as f- fast as we could." Her voice was trembling now.

"Shh... just breathe real deep and let it out slow. Then talk. Like it was somethin' you saw not somethin' you lived."

"She came-to in the medlab and— and..." Jubilee was crying in earnest now. "She went crazy. Totally batshit. She was not herself. Not Rogue at all. Not even a little. She— she almost killed Bobby."

"What?"

"She hit him so hard. So hard. It cracked his sternum and threw his heart into arrhythmia. Kitty shocked it back into rhythm and then he shifted into his ice form. It's all crackly looking, like when you drop a big block of ice but it hasn't shattered. He's been that way ever since."

Jesus.

"Kitty saved him?" Something was wrong there.

"Yeah. Hank... he couldn't do it. Rogue broke his arm and then knocked him unconscious."

"She broke _Hank's_ arm?" He wasn't even sure he could break Hank's arm. Stab it with the claws, sure. But not break it. Hank had a unique physiology, incredibly dense bones and massive musculature.

"Like a stick of dried spaghetti. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap—"

Logan heard the sound of retching.

It was a minute before Jubilee picked the phone back up.

"Sorry."

"S'fine."

"She— she totally trashed the lab, like when Jean ripped the door off that one time, but you know, like all over instead of only the door. We tried to sedate her but nothing worked. Nothing would penetrate her skin. Gambit finally got to the control room, put the whole lower level on lockdown and flooded it with gas. That worked long enough for us to get in, strap her down in solitary and get the fuck out of there."

"Jesus."

"The sedative wore off hours ago. We tried to use it again but her body's adapted. It doesn't work anymore. Her brain activity says it's not a coma but she's not waking up, either."

"This was hours ago and you're just fuckin' callin' me _now_?"

"Yeah. I was in the lower level with her when Gambit turned the gas on, Wolvie." She huffed. "I'm good, but I'm not _that_ good."

"Sorry."

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"We don't know what's gonna happen when she wakes up. We don't have the Professor or Jean anymore. Nothing's gonna hold her. Nothing we have will stop her. Nothing. We're like ants to her. We're not even sure if Rogue is in there anymore. If— if..." Her voice broke. "Hank was lucid for a little while. He thinks maybe the only thing that could stop her might be adamantium."

No. Oh, Christ Jesus, no.

" _No_."

He was going to be sick.

"I'm not saying it's Plan B, or even plan C or D—"

"No fuckin' way."

_Your love is going to kill me._

"I know you love her."

"Shut up."

She didn't.

"All those times you called and I was such a bitch to you. You never yelled at me. Not once." She'd actually kind of admired the balls it took to keep trying. "All the times you hurt her. All the times she hurt you. You both just kept trying. That's love."

"That's two stubborn people who are too stupid to realize all they do is cause each other pain."

"I'm just asking for one more try. Just one."

"No!"

"Maybe if you just talked to her—"

"She doesn't want to see me ever again. She made that crystal fuckin' clear. I'm tellin' you, whatever is goin' on in her head right now, havin' me there would only make it worse."

"You think about this. You think about how it felt tonight when you asked me if she was dead. You think about how you'd be feeling right now if I'd said yes."

Blackness pulled at the edges of his consciousness and he swayed. The animal was very close now. So close. The man couldn't take much more. He made a choked sound.

"So fuck you. You suck it up. Whatever she did to you, you stick that in some deep dark hole and slam the door on it, m'kay? She needs you now and I swear on a stack of Jimmy Choos, if you don't help her now, I will come after you and make you wish you were dead."

Silence.

"Logan?"

He let out a long, shuddering breath.

"Where are you? Can you see her?"

"I'm with her in the psych wing. The padded room where Jean stayed when she first came here. I can see her through the glass. She's still totally out of it."

"She alone?"

"Of course. Who'd be with her except me and Hank? He'd be here, but he's sedated again. It took a lot— a special team to put his arm back together."

"Who'd be with her? How 'bout her boyfriend? That Cajun prick."

"Remy? They broke up years ago. No offence, but your intel sucks." She sighed softly. "He's been nursing a broken heart for a while now. He's keeping his distance upstairs because I kept tripping over his mopey ass. I told him I'd paff him if he didn't give me some room to work."

Frankly, he was shocked.

"Better him than me or you'd be paffin' with no hands." If he'd been there, if Marie'd wanted him and he'd been her lover, then nothing and nobody would have kept him away.

"Gotcha."

"Good. Can you put the phone to her ear or give her a headset if it's too dangerous to stay close?"

"Can do. You wanna talk to her?"

"No. But I will."

"You're not coming, are you." It was a statement not a question.

"I would if I thought it would help."

"Are you sure?"

"Honey, the last time I saw her, she used her gift on me and left me crumpled up in a heap on the floor of her hotel room to be taken out with the trash, so yeah, I'm sure." His instincts were rarely wrong and right now, they was screaming at him that putting himself in the same room with her when she was that unstable would end very badly for both of them.

"Oh my God!" Jubilee was shocked. "She really did that?"

"Yeah."

"But if she did that- then she's got you in her head now, right? She's got you on the inside again?"

_I see everything. All your shame._

He winced. "That's the way it works, yeah."

"You'd— you'd help her in there too, right?"

"If I could."

"She touched me once too. By accident during a Danger Room run. Knocked me out for a bit but no biggie. I'm tougher than I look. If I'm in there, you know I'll help too. I've got her back."

"I know ya do. You're good people, honey. Annoyin' as fuck, but still good."

"Back atcha. So are you ready to get this show on the road, or what?"

"Yeah. Just- just..." He took a steadying breath. "No games, okay? Don't put it on speaker or nothin'. She's a private person and what I have to say ain't for anyone but her, you get me?"

"I'm so picking up what you're putting down, Wolvie."

"You tell me when."

"Gotcha. You'll know."

He heard the whoosh-hiss of the door sliding open and then Jubilee's voice got all echoey.

"Hi, Roguey. It's Jubes. I know a girl needs her beauty rest an' all, but Wolvie's on the horn for ya. You know I hate being the middleman between you and Mr. CrankyPants, so this time I thought you could rip him a new one yourself instead of having me do it by proxy. It's fun and all, but you're a real badass now. You can scare the shit out of him way better than I ever could... so—"

Logan heard her voice waver.

"So, I'm just gonna hold the phone up by your ear and then stop talking so Wolvie will know when he can start with the ass kissing or kicking. Whichever. But I really think you should listen to him. He's a dumbass and a bastard, but he cares, Roguey. He really, really does in his own screwed-up, male-brain kinda way. You gotta get better, chica. That blonde bitch doesn't deserve the rights of survivorship to my shoe collection. That's all you, girl. So, that's me signing off now— and you of all people know how hard it is for me to zip it while Wolvie gets free rein... so you just listen to him now. You can give me all the deets when you wake up."

Her voice fell silent.

Logan waited a moment, just to be sure she was done. Jubilee annoyed the piss out of him, but she was a damn good friend.

"Hey, kid. It's me. It's been a while, huh? I'm back in Madripoor. It's the rainy season. You know how I love that. 'Bout as much as you love spiders. But I don't feel much like makin' small talk tonight."

He took a deep breath.

"I dunno how to be anythin' but straight with you, darlin'. I'm still pissed as hell atcha. Nobody's ever hurt me that fuckin' bad. Not even those motherfuckers in the lab."

He paced across his room, to the open window and back.

"To be honest, I didn't think I'd ever be talkin' to you again, and then I get this call from the firecracker and she's cryin' and scarin' the shit outta me 'cause for a second there, she had me thinkin' you were dead. I'm pissed at ya, yeah, but I don't wish nothin' bad for you. Never did. Not even now after you ripped my fuckin' guts out."

Logan tried for balance, tried for peace but the animal was always wild with her, strong in his mind. Wanting his own say. Guiding his words.

"She said you got some crazy bitch in your head and some damned freaky powers too. That you started bustin' up the lab and hurtin' Hank and Bobby. Hank's your friend, so I don't know what you were thinkin' there. That ain't you. I'll try not to be too broken up over you takin' a cheap shot at the little ice prick. You know I've been wantin' to do that for years. It's just you're scarin' the shit outta everyone now. Hurtin' people and wreckin' the place. They tried to stop ya, threw everythin' they had at ya and nothin' worked. Hank thinks that maybe nothin' but me could stop you now."

Balance. Balance.

Grrrr...

"You and me. We ain't never been hearts and flowers, kid. This thing between us is bigger than that."

_I would die for you._

"So I'm gonna tell you this once. Just once. I don't have it in me do that again and walk away. I've done it three times and I'm tellin' you, I don't have nothin' left. So you make the choice right now, you hear me? You fight and you kick her ass good. Because if I have to come down there then you should know what that's gonna mean for us both."

The animal was very close now.

"It means you go— I go. Package deal."

His face was wet.

"S'up to you, kid."

Logan could hear Jubilee crying softly in the background now.

He hung up so she'd know he'd said his piece and called back immediately. She answered on the first ring, still taking great, big, shuddering breaths.

"Logan?" She sniffed hard and he could tell she was really trying to get it together.

"Breathe, honey."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I heard some of that on accident. I tried not to but I heard a little."

"Don't tell anyone, huh?"

"Never. It will go with me to the grave. I am seriously like your biggest fan now. I knew you loved her and all, but I swear to God, I never knew it was like _that_."

"Hmph."

"Really, I—" She stopped mid-word. "Oh my GOD!"

"What?"

"I think maybe it worked. I think maybe it did a little. She heard you! She really, really did. Her eyes are still closed and she's still totally out of it but tears are leaking out of her now."

"Good. That's good. That means she's still in there, but don't go thinkin' that means she's gonna wanna see me when she finally opens her eyes. She hates my guts."

"I seriously doubt that."

"Call me when she wakes up."

"Will do... Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. I love her too, you know?"

"Yeah, honey. I know."

* * *

Up next: **The Army**. _You go_ _—_ _I go. Package deal._ Marie has a choice to make; let go... or stay and fight.


	11. The Army

{C'mon, kid. Time to get up.}

_Five more minutes, Mama._

{I ain't your mama, darlin'. Now get that lazy ass up. We got work to do. I need ya firin' on all cylinders here.}

_Logan?_

{Glad you could join the party, baby. I've been worried about you.}

_What happened?_

{You touched some crazy bitch named Carol. Hung on 'till she bought the farm. She's a little big for her britches and kinda took over. Now she's tryin' her best to vote ya off the island for good.}

Marie looked around. This wasn't how things looked in her head at all; that was more wild, all rich vivid colors and swirls. This was a pure white space, warm and quiet. Safe.

_What is this place?_

{I made it to keep you safe. It won't last forever, but it'll buy us a little time.}

_Thanks. It sounds like I needed it pretty bad._

{You did.}

_What do you want me to do?_

{I wantcha to kick her ass. To fight back. To get up, shake the dust off, tell the bitch to go fuck herself and take back what's yours. You're a real hardass now, kid. I know you can do it.}

_I'm only hard on the outside. I only learned all that stuff because I'm weak on the inside. I'm still that scared little kid who needs you to feel safe._

{No you ain't. You're tough. A fighter, like me.}

_Logan?_

{Yeah, baby?}

_Can I tell you something a little hard?_

{Sure, kid. Anythin'.}

_I think... I think I might not want to fight anymore. I'm so tired of fighting. I hurt so much now. I hurt all the time. I think it might be better this way. I just want to close my eyes and let go._

{I know you're hurtin', baby girl. I know. I feel it with you, in you, every day. For years now.}

_I hurt him so bad. He was so beautiful when he rushed into me and I used that intimate knowledge to wound him in the worst way. I can't ever take it back or make it right. He's never going to forgive me. I just wanted him to be free._

{I ain't gonna lie to you. It was real rough whatcha did. He's hurtin' bad, too. But if you do this, if you choose to give up... whatever he feels, I can tell you this much; he don't wantcha dead. That'll only hurt him more. Maybe even a killin' blow.}

_I don't know._

{It would be for me. This world is a bleak fuckin' place. You're the only bright spot for us. The only one.}

_Not a real killing blow, though. Not like you mean. He wouldn't really die._

{Don't fool yourself, baby. You're the light in us. If that light goes out, do you have any idea what that would mean for us? What monster that would unleash on the world? Even if we can't have you, even if all we ever have is knowin' you walk in the same world as us, we need that. We need it to keep goin'. It ain't right to put that on ya, but some things ain't right or fair. They just are.}

She thought that over for a long time.

He could feel her gathering her resolve.

_I don't think I can beat her. She's so strong. So strong. I'm just one scared little girl. I'm not brave. I'm not an army. I'm just one person. I'm weak. I'm... I'm just me._

{No you ain't. You ain't weak and you ain't alone, kid.}

He materialized beside her, looking like he did that day on the snowy road in Canada. He'd always, only, been a disembodied voice in her head. Never a whole person she could see and touch and hold.

She hugged him hard. Fiercely. She couldn't hurt him here. And she suddenly realized that the fact that she could see him that way meant she must be very close to the other side. The veil between this world and the next was thin now, a fragile gossamer wisp.

He stepped back.

{You ain't alone, baby. Look.}

Erik appeared and came to stand beside her, looking young and strong and ready to fight; those piercing blue eyes so focused, like that day on the beach when the sheer force of his indomitable will pulled a submarine from the ocean. She could feel his power thrumming in her. Bobby appeared, flanked by Piotr and John, all in their leather, suited up and ready to go.

Hank appeared, hale and strong. He smiled at her and waved both arms, that growly laugh she loved so much rumbling in his big chest. She'd kissed him once, on purpose and with his consent, because she'd wanted a little of him with her for always. Jubilee appeared, giving her a thumbs up, her yellow coat bright against her black uniform. Gambit appeared with his staff. His eyes were sad, but his face was resolute. He would always defend her. David appeared, eyes shining under his ball cap with his bat on his shoulder and an easy smile on his face.

Scott appeared. He was more transparent than the rest. That touch had only been a fleeting brush of her fingertips over his tears the night she'd lost her virginity to him. The were both so drunk and in desperate need of solace. Richard appeared, smiling broadly and gave Marie a smug, naughty wink and a kiss on her cheek. When she wasn't looking, he gave Logan the finger and got a one claw salute in return.

Behind them, the others appeared. The two men who'd mugged her in Nepal. The lover she'd left unconscious in India. The woman who'd accidently brushed against her on the subway that once. All the men and women she'd touched over the years on various missions. The number was staggering. It really was an army.

{See? Even the ones who didn't come willingly are here to stand with you.}

_Why?_

{Because you're respectful with us after we get here, even if it wasn't by choice. This is our home. We're ready to defend it. All of us.}

Charles appeared standing beside Erik, his youthful face and bright eyes smiling at her under a thick head of dark, unruly hair.

_I never touched Charles._

Charles' warmth surrounded her.

{No, you did not. I am the piece of Charles who lives in Erik. You share a remarkable connection with Logan, Rogue, yet you two are not the only ones to ever develop a bond so deep it defies natural laws. Look for yourself.}

She did, casting her eye over the growing crowd. Jean appeared beside Scott. She was delicate and ethereal, wild red hair swirling around her alabaster face. Beside her, Scott grew more and more solid until he was as real as the rest of them, suited up for battle with his visor on and that boyish grin on his handsome face.

Jean really was a goddess, her power so immense that she could channel it through that glimmer of him left inside her. Marie felt it ripple outward, strengthening them all.

{See, darlin'? She's on your side too. She's been in your camp since you called her a divine being. You weren't wrong.}

Her own form appeared as she'd been at seventeen, just after her mutation manifested, and went to stand beside Logan. He put his arm around her and they both smiled at her.

God, she was so young. Logan was right to have waited. She really had been just a child. She could see it clearly now.

A petite Asian woman appeared in formal kimono. A little girl with dark wild hair, almond eyes, and Logan's pointy nose materialized at her side, tugging shyly at her mother's obi. Mariko. She bowed slightly, her eyes warm and shining; the message clear. I will stand with you. Logan's blood will stand with you.

Marie gasped softly.

Across the space, a shimmering luminescent figure appeared, tall and strong. His features were indistinct, a swirling matrix of silvery light shrouded him. It was breathtaking.

She looked over at Logan.

_Who is that?_

{You don't know?}

She shook her head.

{That's Patch.}

The floor fell out from under her.

{It got too confusin' callin' two people Logan, kid. I'm me, same as always. He's new.}

_Oh my God._

_Why is he different than everyone else?_

{You can't tell?}

_No._

{He's special. We all have a place. We're all a part of you. You care about all of us. But he's the only one you love with everythin' you got in ya, darlin'. That's your love, shinin' all over him. Protectin' him. Markin' him. Makin' him strong. It's love, Marie.}

_That's_ — _that's not right. I love you, too._

{Baby, I barely knew you when we touched. There was somethin' there. A connection. But you didn't love me. You didn't even know me. We had a spark.}

His voice was so tender.

{What's shinin' all over him... that blazin' light... that's what ten years did to that spark.}

_Oh, God._

_It's beautiful. He's beautiful._

{It is. And so are you.}

She looked down at herself and realized she was shimmery too, bright and luminescent.

Her eyes left Patch and turned back to Logan.

_How did you do this?_

{I didn't do this. I put up a wall around you. That's all. You did this. _He_ did this. _He_ raised the army. He loves you, baby.}

The world tilted and her knees buckled.

{Can't you hear him?}

_No._

{He's here.}

_I know. I can see him._

{No. Outside Patch is here. Talkin' to ya on the firecracker's phone. Tryin' like hell to getcha to fight. Same as me. Open your heart and listen, darlin'.}

She did and his words came, gravelly and rough in her head. Honest, angry words full of hurt and full of love.

Marie was stunned and humbled.

{You see? You see how it is now?}

She nodded.

_Package deal. I go_ — _he goes. I get it._

{We all go. It's your choice, Marie.}

With tears in her eyes, she turned to look at the army behind her.

{You see? You were never as untouchable as you thought. We all touched you. We loved you. You were never alone, baby. Never. We're all connected to each other through you. You did that. You made yourself strong. You made us strong. We stand with you, shoulder to shoulder, ready to fight with you if you want, darlin'. It's up to you.}

She took a step toward Patch and then turned back to Logan.

_Logan. You've been with me so long. I can't_ _—_

{Don't worry about me.}

He stepped back and tucked his arm around the younger version of herself.

{I belong here with her. We're flies in amber. We belong together in the past. He's your future, darlin'. Not me. You just gotta be brave enough to reach out and take it.}

Screwing up every bit of courage she ever had, she walked slowly toward Patch. He stood in that place between rage and serenity. The closer she got, the harder each step became. She felt so much shame. So much regret and fear.

She finally stood before him, eyes downcast. Shy and afraid. She could feel him; love so deep it terrified her, underscored with rage and anger and pain in equal intensity. Desire swirled in wild uncontrolled eddies, sending shimmery bursts of light dancing around her. She raised her face to him but she couldn't see. His brilliance blinded her.

_I'm so sorry, sugar. I just wanted you to be free._

She reached out her hand, heart hammering in her chest, afraid even now, even after all he'd done for her, that he'd reject her shy, tentative overture.

{S'alright, kid. I got insider info now. You don't hafta explain. I get it.}

He held out his hand.

Their fingers entwined and the light spread out from them both, growing exponentially and covering everyone, becoming brighter and warmer, and then incandescent as it burned away everything else.

* * *

 

Up next: **The Darkness**. Winning a war never comes without a cost. Logan pays. Jubilee makes a phone call.

A special thanks to Verthril for the line! You rock. :)


	12. The Darkness

Half way across the world, Logan's phone trilled.

He looked at the display. There was a message from Jubilee.

_Wolvie. Don't freak. It's all good. Incoming call in 3...2...1..._

His phone rang. He put it to his head.

"She's awake." The accompanying squeal made his ears ring and his eyes water.

"Jesus. You come with a volume button? Use it. And then tell me how she is."

"Because I now worship at the altar of the Wolverine, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that." He could tell she was smiling by the tone in her voice. "She's awake and she's herself. Just herself."

Oh, thank Christ.

He sank to his knees.

"Good. That's good. She okay?"

"I think so. She's up and moving around, talking and stuff."

"I'll take it."

"Ditto times a billionty. And don't take this the wrong way, but you were right. She didn't ask for you."

That didn't surprise him one damn bit.

"S'fine. Didn't expect she would. It doesn't matter as long as she's okay."

"She doesn't remember much from that night. We had to tell her what happened. She freaked a little over Hank and Bobby, but they're both on the mend, so it wasn't too bad."

He knew she'd be upset about hurting her friends, Hank especially. She'd always had a soft spot for him.

"I don't know if she remembers your call or not. I didn't ask."

"Whaddaya know. You can be taught."

"Don't get smart. My Wolvie love only goes so far."

"So she's really okay?"

"Well... yes, but she's...sort of different."

"Different how?"

"I don't know, exactly. Relaxed? Quiet? She's... like eerily calm. Still."

"Peaceful?"

He hoped so.

"No. Not that kinda still. Still like on a nature show when they show you a calm, placid waterhole and everything looks all serene and pretty until a giant gator flashes up outta the water, bites an antelope and drags it back under. That kinda still."

"Jesus."

"It's less Prozac calm and more eye-of-the-storm calm if you get me."

"Got it."

"It's plenty weird, but I'm not getting an 'I'm gonna go postal' vibe from her, or anything. She says she killed Carol, so I think we're good."

"Carol?"

"The blonde. They had some kinda war in her head. She won."

_Good girl, darlin'._

"Gotcha."

"So that's it for now. I'm gonna motor."

"Hey, honey?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"You betcha."

**~ooOoo~**

Logan fell into bed, exhausted from his latest assignment. He was tired and hungry and wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next twelve hours. He checked his phone and saw a voicemail.

Jubilee. He tensed a little but there was a touch of a smile, too. She'd been keeping him updated pretty regularly over the last several weeks.

He pressed the display and winced at her shrill voice ringing in his ear.

"What's shakin', Bacon? Got the weekly Rogue report for ya. She's doing pretty good. She cried some today when Hank got the first of the pins out of his arm, but we managed. She mostly just takes a lot of long walks and spends a lot of time by herself, thinking or sketching. There's even one or two of you, but I think maybe she's not as good with the sketching as she is with the painting. In the one I saw, your hair was long and looked all weird. Maybe the crazy points were too hard to draw. I don't know."

It all came out in one big rush. He didn't even hear her take a breath. She was like a pixie on speed. He wasn't sure what it meant that Marie was drawing him at all, let alone with long hair.

"There's lots of drawings of birds too. Mostly cranes from the pond, but some sketches of origami cranes, too. Weird, huh? Like, if you have the paper, why draw an origami crane? Why not just fold one? Maybe she doesn't know how."

She knew. Logan closed his eyes, disturbed and settled at the same time.

"Anywho, there's not much more to report unless you wanna hear about our trip to the mall."

He rolled his eyes. Fuck no.

"And don't you roll those eyes at me! See ya, Tonto."

**~ooOoo~**

A few weeks later, there was another voicemail for him.

"Hey, it's me. Just a quick one 'cos things are a little crazy around here. Rogue had her first Danger Room session today to test drive the new powers. They're impressive. She was a badass before, but you should see her now. It's like if the Terminator and Superman had a love child... Okay, that one was out there even for me, but damn. She's something else. She's gonna need to work on her control — bull and china shop being the operative words here — but she's doing great."

Logan breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled at the image Jubilee's words had created.

"I'm not too sure if I should tell you the rest. I think maybe I shouldn't. She's my friend and it feels a bit like I'm betraying a confidence, but you're my friend too. Stop laughing. You are."

He smiled. She was right.

"But I think you should know. There was an accident while we were training. She doesn't know her own strength. She crashed into me a little. Touched me with her skin and you know what? NOTHING HAPPENED! Yep, that's right. She can control it now. Off. On. Off. On. Easy peasy. Hank thinks it's probably been this way since the accident, but we only just discovered it now. I mean, it's not like she goes around touching people on a regular basis, so how would she even know? She's all weird about it and still won't take off her gloves. But I think it'll be okay in time. She should have probably been the one to tell you, but if we waited for that, I'd hafta climb out of my rocking chair just to give you a high five. I just wanted you know. Laters, Wolvie."

Logan sat stunned in the darkness. He'd never expected that. Every single reason she'd given him why they couldn't be together had just vanished.

And the kicker was she still didn't want him. He supposed that was fair. He wasn't sure he wanted her either. Not anymore. Not after what she'd said to him. Some things couldn't be undone.

_I see everything. All your shame._

**~ooOoo~**

Over the next several months, as Marie got better and better, Jubilee's reports became fewer and further between. He understood why that was; Jubilee was trying to find a balance between the two of them, and between her loyalty to her friend and her desire to help her heal. She'd needed him more in the beginning and he had allowed the contact, even though it had been painful. He knew Marie better than anyone and his insights had been invaluable during her recovery.

Now that she was almost back to her old self, it felt less like a confidence and more like telling tales out of school on the rare occasion Jubilee passed along some tidbit of information. If Marie wanted him to know how she was, she'd tell him. That she didn't spoke volumes. Frankly, he was glad. He didn't want to talk to her.

And then the day came when Jubilee let him know Marie was going on missions again and that undercover assignments would shortly follow. A part of him wanted to yell at her and shake some sense into her. Another part of him, a part he'd set aside while she was hurt and recovering, reasserted itself. Her brush with death hadn't wiped away what she'd done to him. In some ways it had made it worse, forcing him to deal with so much before he was remotely ready. He was still furious with her, deeply wounded by her cruel mocking words, and angry and resentful that he'd had to shelve dealing with the emotional fallout of that night. And it stung that he did it all for someone who'd made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing more to do with him.

That tore at his pride, at his self-worth as a man. It was one thing to humble yourself for someone who loved you. It was quite another to humble yourself for someone who'd rather suffer than spend another moment in your company. He'd done it, but it had come at a steep price. Her casual choices, and her seeming disregard for all that he'd done to bring her back from the edge despite the cost to himself, made him livid. In that moment, he wanted to hurt her. Emotionally. Physically. God help him, but he did. He got drunk and trashed his hotel room instead. It didn't make him feel better. It made him feel impotent. She'd put him in his place and he'd somehow, for some reason he couldn't explain to himself, accepted it.

And that felt wrong. Desperately wrong. Bone-jarringly, soul-searingly wrong. There was something there in the balance of power that was off. It didn't sit right, and it didn't feel right, and all of his senses rebelled against it.

For half a year, he heard nothing and if the ugly truth be told, he preferred it that way. It was better, easier for him to surrender to his demons. Those were his blackest times. He dwelled in the darkness and tortured himself, imagining her getting hurt again. Imagining another phone call letting him know she'd died. Imagining what it would be like for him if she did. The blackness in him raged, and the animal grinned back from behind his eyes. Waiting. Watching.

He thought a lot about her ability to touch and to be touched. He imagined other men putting their hands on her. Men like Richard. Hard men. Good men. He saw them stroking her naked back. Licking the salt from her neck. Writhing under the pleasure of her mouth. Christ, that goddamn mouth of hers had always tormented him.

He thought of them savoring her touch skating over their skin and feeling those pale pink nipples tightening against their palms in response to a rough caress. He imagined them suckling her breasts, thrusting wildly into her, owning her and biting her and marking her; coming deep inside her and falling asleep after in a sweaty, tangled heap, fingers entwined, with her scent all over them both and her hair spread out over the rumpled sheets.

There were nights he would think about her taste and get hard, touching the body she'd so coldly rejected, stroking himself through his jeans, grinding up against the heel of his hand as he thought about the way she'd rocked against him. The weight of her hands on his shoulders. The little whimpers in her throat as she grew more aroused. The silk of her hair between his fingers. Her luscious scent filling his head. The way her toes had curled and her thighs had trembled against his hips when she came.

He would bring himself to the edge, sometimes many times, just moments short of orgasm, and then he would deny his body that release as if could somehow deny what had happened that night. He tortured and punished himself like he wanted to do to her. He hated that she'd shown him a glimmer of what it might have been and then laughed at him as she'd pulled it all away.

He grew colder and more cruel, rougher with the women he did choose. They meant less than nothing to him, a wet hole and a soft body to spend himself against when he couldn't stand another night of torment. One night he realized he wanted to cut the woman he was with and taste her blood while he pounded her against the door of her truck. It was then that he hated the Rogue. Hated what opening his heart to her had done to him.

Inside him, the Wolverine prowled, aware his freedom was close at hand. The man was tired. So tired.

It wouldn't be long now.

**~ooOoo~**

A noise edged into Logan's consciousness. It annoyed him. He was drunk and the repetitive synthetic sound was distracting him from— There it was again. His phone, he realized. Grabbing for it, he made a face at the number flashing in the display, thumbed the icon and stuck the phone to his ear.

"What?" he barked.

"Hi to you too, sunshine," Jubilee said with more than a touch of irritation at his rude greeting.

The head bobbing up and down in his lap stopped, releasing him from her wet mouth to look up at him with a question in her eyes.

He put a hand on her neck and shoved her back down. "I didn't tell ya to stop," he grunted at her. "What the fuck do you want?" he snarled at Jubilee.

"What are you...? Ew! Ear bleach, dude. You better not be doing what it sounds like."

"I don't give a shit what you think." His eyes closed briefly at the intense sensation between his legs. It was wet and sloppy. The woman was moaning softly and slurping. She was definitely enthusiasm over talent but it was getting the job done so he didn't much care. She was simply a means to an end. "You got one minute. Start talkin'."

"Brace yourself then, you dirty bastard, because I can talk faster than your brain can think even when you don't have a woman wrapped around your dick. There is no _way_ I'm letting this slide. Consider it a message from all females on this planet. Only a real asshole treats a woman like that. Even if it's a one night stand. Hell, even if it's by the hour. You don't have to disrespect her by treating her like she's a rag you're jerking off into and not a human being."

She was angry. Really angry with him, he realized. It gave him a perverse sense of pleasure to piss her off. Fuck her and her judgments. He was ready to burn down the world and she was a convenient target.

"Forty-five seconds and you ain't helpin' your cause any."

"My cause?"

"Whatever the fuck it is you want from me."

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Maybe I'm tired of bein' her whippin' boy," he growled.

"Is this about your ego or your heart?"

A snarl rose in his throat.

"Tick-tock, honey."

The tongue on him swirled and teased, making him shudder as she sucked the tip and stimulated him strongly. He grunted, fingers hard in her hair as she used a little too much teeth. He got as much pleasure from her mouth as he did from Jubilee's annoyed huff. Fuck her. She could hang up any time.

"Rogue's gone off the reservation. She's been undercover too long. The mission's been over for weeks and she won't come back. Not for me. Not even for Hank. We're losing her."

"Not my problem. Thirty seconds."

"Did you hear me? Do you have dick-induced deafness? We are losing her. I repeat, we are really, really losing her."

"Buy a compass."

"I don't mean from the team. I mean as the person we know. I used to think she was the gator waiting to flash up out of the lake to drag the antelope down. Now I think she's the water and the part of her that we know is drowning in it."

"Hmph." He tried not to let her words penetrate the layers of hate and self-loathing he'd wrapped himself in.

"I know you care about her. I _heard_ it. You can't hide it from me. I was there, remember?"

"Mention that again and I hang up now. First and only warnin'. Twenty seconds."

He wished the woman on her knees in front of him was better at what she was doing. He could use the distraction. Somewhere along the line, the little firecracker had gotten under his skin and that pissed him off too.

"Logan, I mean it. That weird stillness is swallowing her."

"I know the feelin'." It was half innuendo, half bitter ugly truth.

"Spare me your puerile frat-boy bullshit. I don't have time for this."

"That's the first fuckin' thing you've said tonight that's even a little bit right. Ten seconds."

"I'm worried she's gonna hurt herself, you self-absorbed, brooding piece of shit. And I'm afraid that when you crawl out of that bottle or that bimbo or both, that's it gonna be too late. DO YOU HEAR ME? I think she might try to hurt herself."

"Fuck."

He pushed the redhead away from his lap and was disgusted by her attempts to entice him with her body, the look of carnal hunger in her eye and her greedy, grasping hands. She rolled to her hands and knees and sunk down so her face and chest were on the floor and her pink, wet opening was presented to him, thighs spread and eager. Quivering. Glistening. He hated that for one very long moment, he considered taking what she offered. He could be finished in three, maybe four thrusts.

"Logan?"

"Where the fuck is she?"

"Outside of Rawdon. It's-"

"I know where it fuckin' is." North of Montreal on the edge of the wilderness.

"Where are you?"

In hell.

"Lookin' for my white fuckin' horse."

His voice was hard and she didn't laugh. Not even a little. She'd never seen him like this. Maybe sending him after Rogue wasn't the best idea but she didn't know what else to do.

"You'll come?"

He eyed the woman on the floor, so crudely spread for him.

"Not soon enough," he muttered. "But, yeah. It'll take me a day to get there. Maybe a day and a half. This ain't the best time of year." There was a lot of snow.

"You're stateside?"

"I'll be there," he said flatly.

"Thanks, Wolvie."

"Don't."

There was a very real possibility they'd kill each other this time.

* * *

Up next: **The Gauntlet**. Marie tosses it down. The _Wolverine_ picks it up.


	13. The Gauntlet

Marie wasn't hard to find. A minimum amount of effort had turned her up at a little rundown motel on the edge of town. It was the kind of place you went when you didn't want to be noticed, but she wasn't actively trying to hide.

Logan watched the room a while. The sun rose. He finally decided that he'd just go in and get her instead of sitting in the truck, freezing his ass off for another few hours. The paper cranes felt heavy in his pocket.

The place had zero security and minimal locks. He soundlessly cut the deadbolt with a single claw and slipped silently inside her room. It smelled of stale cigarettes, the crisp peppery tang of good tequila, and the heavy musk of sex. There was a tangle of naked feminine limbs on the bed that he didn't bother to examine too closely as he turned and jerked the curtains open. He was preoccupied. He could smell her everywhere and the Wolverine was howling the house down.

"Wakey, wakey, sunshine." He kicked the bed with a booted foot. "Get your ass up." He was here but he wasn't happy about it.

His eyes widened as a very naked Marie untangled herself from a pale, freckled redhead and threw an arm over her face to block out the blinding light.

God, it was bright. "Go away."

Marie in bed with a woman? His brain was still trying to process that even as his eyes raked down her lithe form and came to rest on the striking black tattoo that began just under her left breast and ended just above her left hip. It was three elegant strings of what had to be Tibetan calligraphy. At the bottom of each string was a small Japanese character in blood red. Those he could read. Wild. Passion. Eternity. That was certainly fitting. He liked it and found it disturbing at the same time. At a distance, the calligraphy looked like three claw marks and he didn't know what to make of that.

His eyes didn't stay on the tattoo for long. The woman he'd been fantasizing about for years was naked in front of him. He's a man. He looked. The animal was engaged now, as form and scent merged. He barely choked down the desire to taste her.

"And I said get your ass up. It's time to move out."

Those words seemed to finally pierce the fog surrounding her brain. She sat up, uncaring of her nudity. Her face was hidden by her long wild hair, but that's not where his eyes were anyway.

"Is this where you give me the, 'We can do this the easy way or the hard way' speech?"

"No." He snorted. "There ain't no easy way with us. Never has been."

She did not appear to be at all bothered that he'd found her in bed with a woman. He hadn't quite been ready for that revelation.

Eyes closed, she raked her fingers through her hair a few times and then turned around with a shrug, one leg on the floor, one bent knee on the bed as she searched through the sheets and finally pulled her panties from under the other woman's milky thigh. His eyes widened slightly at the view from behind, his feet shuffling restlessly but he didn't look away. He couldn't count the number of people he'd pulled out of motel rooms, for various unpleasant reasons, over the years. This was the first time he'd been uncomfortable.

Marie crossed the room to her pack and his eyes followed, lingering on her upturned breasts and the soft, pale pink nipples. His gaze followed the line of her tattoo down her hip and fell on the dark curls between her legs. It surprised him slightly. It seemed everyone was waxed or plucked or shaved these days. The sight of hair excited him and he could feel the Wolverine prowling along the edges of his consciousness. He approved. She had lipstick on the inside of her left thigh. Neither male approved of that. Jealousy spiraled wild and sharp.

He still grew hard. And that just pissed him off.

She stepped into the black unisex boy-shorts and turned to him. "Mind throwing me my pants?"

There wasn't the slightest hint of innuendo or sexuality. She wasn't aroused. The lingering scent of sex was strong and he could smell another woman all over her, but she wasn't the slightest bit titillated by parading her naked body in front of him. He'd seen that before. Men who'd been a tool for the cause so long they ceased to think of themselves as people. He understood what Jubilee meant now about feeling like they were losing her.

He threw her jeans at her, watching casually with his arms crossed over his chest while she slid the worn denim up her toned legs and then slipped on a ribbed tank and a hoodie before she pulled on her socks and boots.

His eyes narrowed when she crossed the room and put one knee on the bed, her naked fingertips sliding up the woman's thigh before trailing up her spine. He watched her lean forward and drop a kiss on the woman's shoulder, murmuring a soft, "Thanks, darlin'," before throwing the sheet over her naked body and standing up.

It was disturbing. That the woman was a redhead was more disturbing. That was all him, right there. Twined with his discomfort over seeing something so blatantly _him_ coming out of her was the horrible realization of how far he'd sunk. The way he'd treated the woman with him last night sickened him in comparison. Soulless people had once made him feel less than human. Now he wasn't much better. That was a bitter pill to swallow.

He was surprised when she pulled on her gloves before pushing her arms into her jacket. She zipped up her pack and turned, green eyes flashing at him. Green? What the hell was that? Logan was shocked into stillness. Her eyes were luminous and bright. He'd seen a photograph of an Afghan girl with eyes that color once. So piercing and vibrant they almost didn't look quite human. He could tell they weren't contacts. Colored lenses were easy to spot if you knew what to look for. These were the real deal and they were damned unsettling.

"What the fuck is wrong with your eyes?!" he growled, prowling in a circle around her now. Head tilted, appraising. Curious. Probing.

His words penetrated her strange stillness and she blushed to the roots of her hair, suddenly aware of herself in a different way. As a person. A person who had a lot of history with the hard man who was staring intently at her.

"You've been in here with me for the last five minutes. And you're just _now_ looking above my neck?" Her tone was somewhere between pissed off and wry amusement.

His jaw clenched. She could see the muscles jumping in his neck. "You ain't a kid anymore, baby. If you're gonna put it out there, I'm sure as hell gonna look." His eyes gleamed golden at her, smoldering. "Hell, you're lucky there's enough left of the man in me to hold back the animal after that little show. I wasn't sure I could until just now." It had been a close thing. And they were all lucky he hadn't found her in bed with a man. That would have ended badly. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hating the scent of another upon her.

It could _still_ end badly.

She chuffed softly. "Don't flatter yourself. You'd have looked then, too." A cheap shot, but true nonetheless. He might not have done anything, but they both know he would have looked. The Wolverine growled in him, low and deep. The animal would have done more than look and they both knew it. "As for the Wolverine?" Her eyes were on fire now. "I've never been afraid of him."

She was quiet now, but those eyes, those damned vibrant eyes of hers left his to trail down his body and stopped just below his belt buckle. It was a glance, not a leer, but she wanted to know if she still had the power to move him.

She did.

He ignored it, his attention on the animal that was snapping at the end of the chain.

"What the _hell_ happened to your eyes?"

"They were a parting gift." He made her feel ashamed. Lacking. Like she'd taken another step further away from the girl he remembered so fondly. And that made her feel angry and defiant because that was one change she hadn't asked for or wanted. Instead of casting her eyes to the floor like she wanted to, she lifted her chin and held his gaze instead, upset now rather than amused. A direct challenge to the Wolverine. He growled at her and for a moment, she could see him there staring wildly back at her.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means killing someone with my skin had some unexpected repercussions."

Well, shit. Jubilee had never told him _that_.

Balance. Balance. It was illusive. Instead there was just the animal, breathing. Hungry.

But that was a conversation he didn't want to have here and certainly not in front of the woman sleeping it off across the room. How much did Marie remember about that night? Did she remember his call? She wasn't giving away anything and neither was he. Not here. Definitely.

"Hmph. Get your shit. We're leavin'."

She stopped and stared at him. "That wasn't the only repercussion." She pushed off with the balls of her feet lightly and hung there in the air, suspended above the ground long enough for him to understand the magnitude of her power and to make one point crystal clear. She was coming because she wanted to, not because he was making her. Her days of following meekly were over. She chose her own path now.

"Fair enough."

He could hear Jubilee's voice ringing in his head. _'If the Terminator and Superman had a love child'._ He got it now and he was not amused. He'd never once asked about her new powers. He hadn't cared what she could do. He never had. He'd only cared that she was alive to do it.

It had been a way to protect himself, to not be drawn in too deeply. He hadn't wanted to know too much. He'd had his own pain to manage.

She followed him to his truck, wishing she'd put her sunglasses on. The glint of the sunlight off the snow was blindingly brilliant. Her head pounded and her mouth tasted of tequila and ashes. And perfume.

"Get in."

Marie stopped with her hand on the door. Standing with him like this with snow all around triggered an old memory. "Get out. Get in. Make up your damned mind," she muttered under her breath, opening the door.

Despite his black mood and the seriousness of the situation, he chuckled. It was rusty and rough, there wasn't much amusement in his life anymore, but her comment suddenly struck him as funny. They'd both put on a lot of miles since that day he'd found her in his trailer, but the memory was bright and crisp for him, too.

"Shit," he huffed, smiling at her a little.

She was less amused. "I bet if you knew now what you knew then, you'd have left me on that road."

His smile faded. "No, I wouldn't," he said honesty. "We both might have been happier if I had, but even now, I'd still make the same choice." It hurt, but it was the truth. And in a way, he was making that same choice again right now. Here they were on a snowy road once again.

Her expression was one of disbelief.

"I sometimes wonder what would have happened if we'd just kept driving."

"You know." The cabin. His mood got darker, remembering her mocking laughter of that dream.

"I need a drink."

So did he. The impulse to forget the world and just see where the road took them was strong, even now. He'd never gotten to have that chance with her and that was something he regretted. They'd always been out of step with each other. They still were. After their last encounter, they probably always would be. He didn't think he could ever open himself to her again.

"It's a little past 0700. You need a big greasy breakfast, kid." She glared at him. "But the bottle's under the seat if you're inclined."

There was only a swallow or two left. She eyed him, brows raised, but finished it off anyway.

"Rough trip?"

"You could say that."

Things were tentatively neutral between them but not easy. There was still hurt and pain and the weight of a thousand things left unsaid. He could feel the storm coming, but it wasn't here yet. It left him with a heavy, ominous feeling. Her body language said she felt it too, though they both seemed to be enjoying the calm before it made landfall.

He stopped the truck at a roadside diner.

"Get out." The slightest hint of amusement flickered at the corner of his mouth.

She rolled her eyes and pushed her sunglasses on. "It wasn't that funny," but she was smiling as she said it.

The diner was filled with the usual early morning patrons; mostly working class folks and the usual knot of old men having coffee at the counter. He chose a quiet corner booth and they ordered a huge amount of greasy food. Bacon. Eggs. Sausage. Hashbrowns. Biscuits and gravy for him. A massive stack of waffles with whipped cream and fresh fruit for her. A few gallons of hot, black coffee to wash it all down. It was the first time in almost two days that Logan had eaten.

They were quiet. Marie had finally taken off the sunglasses now that the coffee and the grease had kicked in. He liked her better with them on because then he could pretend those green eyes of hers didn't make him feel uncomfortable and angry. Finally, when their plates were gone and their coffees had been refilled, there were no more excuses.

"You gonna tell me what the hell happened, kid?"

He saw her shoulders tense. "So we're pretending like you don't know?" As opening volleys go, it was a pretty good one. She obviously remembered.

"Jesus, you're prickly." Because what else could he say to that?

"Can you blame me?"

"Baby, I wasn't the one who left you in a heap on the floor in some shitty motel to be taken out with the trash, so spare me the wounded dove act, huh?"

Her body language was all different. She was different. She owned the space around her, golden and leonine. A predator in her own right now. It was the first time he didn't feel protective of her. Possessive as hell, sure, but not protective. He wondered about the shift.

"Is that what you think I did?" She'd been trying to set him free.

"How do I fuckin' know? You're the one with me in your head, not the other way around," he snapped. He tried to find that balance but it eluded him. She always made the animal rise so strong. He reached for her arm, the drive for a physical connection with her was riding him hard, even with all the water that had passed under that bridge.

"Don't touch me." She jerked her arm away.

That stung. So he hit back again.

"I heard you can control it now." Another confession.

Her eyes narrowed.

"So why the gloves, darlin'?"

"I don't like being touched."

That didn't seem to be a problem for her last night. But then, maybe she meant she didn't like to be touched by _men_. Or maybe it was just _him_. That was more likely, given their history. He barely managed to keep those words behind his sharp teeth.

"And just how would you know that?"

"The hard way." She glared at him.

"Heard you stopped seeing the Cajun." Yet another confession. This one had an undercurrent to it. Almost a dare. Taking shots from the cheap seats was still easier than talking about the real issues between them.

"I did." Clearly she needed to have a talk with Jubilee. She knew Jubes had some contact with Logan, but she'd never been sure about the nature of their conversations. They were obviously better friends than she'd imagined. That surprised her. Jubilee didn't give her loyalty lightly.

"Why?"

"What do you expect me to say, Logan?" Because she was in love with another man? She wasn't quite up to that revelation. Marie had been thinking he might come eventually, but she hadn't realized it would be quite so soon. She had been thinking years not months. There was so much to say and she wasn't ready. Not yet. And not here. She was too rattled. She blew out a deep breath.

"Let's live a little and go with the truth, baby."

"He wanted the things from me that I used to want from you once upon a time, back when I was Marie and not the Rogue. But as it turns out, I'm not the picket fence type, sugar."

He winced. "It didn't work out so good for me, either." A dead wife. A dead child. A dead dream of peace. Maybe neither of them were supposed to have those things. "I miss her," he said softly. "That girl who sassed me on a snowy road."

Her look was fierce. "Do you? I'm not sure about that. She scared you. You were never comfortable with her. Never. She was never what you needed and there was no way you could have ever let her be what the Wolverine needed. You could barely stomach the idea of the man touching her, never mind the animal."

"Shut up."

"I don't take orders from you."

He had the strong urge to bite her.

And like he always did when he felt vulnerable, he circled the wagons and went on the offensive. "What did you do with that girl, darlin'? Burn her up? Throw her away because she made you feel scared and weak?"

Marie threw her head back and laughed. "No. I locked her up in a box in my head along with all the things unsaid and undone between us." Well, that had been true once upon a time. Things were different now, but this was not the time or place for that revelation. That was a conversation for another time, somewhere more private after they'd both had a chance to cool off a little.

"So this is you now?" Jubilee had seriously read this situation the wrong way. There was no way in hell a powerful, prideful creature like her would ever harm herself. Someone else, maybe. But not herself. She was on the edge of slipping into the darkness, of losing herself to the rhythm of that life lived in the shadows; missions and downtime and drinking and sex. That he could sense because he knew that edge so well himself. But she was definitely not suicidal. "All cold and hard. Untouchable for real now, inside and out... Hot as hell with who knows what fuckin' gifts, and a pissy little attitude."

And fuck-all if that specific combination didn't light the Wolverine up like napalm in the jungle.

"Gee, sound like anyone you know?" She snorted. Pot. Kettle. Black. His cold assessment of her hurt and made her angry. This wasn't how she wanted this conversation to go. It hadn't been anything like this in her head. But now she was pissed and she'd worked up a good head of steam over it. He made her so irrationally angry and she'd always had a quick temper. She wanted to rip his head off. It was disconcerting to realize she probably could if she applied herself. She was this man's physical equal now. That was a frightening realization. "I have skills you can't even dream of, cowboy."

"I don't doubt it." His voice was low and nasty and she immediately understood the not-so-veiled sexual reference.

He had festering wounds that were going to need a lot of bleeding before they ran clear.

Incandescent rage rolled through her. How dare he look down on her for that after the life he'd led? His bed practically had a revolving door. Once upon a time she'd have let a remark like that from him roll off her back. Not anymore.

Logan went to take a sip of coffee and found he couldn't lift his arm from the table. He couldn't even raise his head to stare at Marie. He was frozen in place, but his eyes flicked unerringly to hers.

"Somethin' wrong, sugar?" she purred. Her brow rose and there was a smug little smile playing at her lips.

He was pinned, completely immobile and he hated it. She knew, she fucking _knew_ how much he hated feeling trapped.

Marie stood and bent to put a gloved hand on his shoulder.

"Baby, if you want to talk, I'll talk. I even want to. But if you're not gonna play fair, then neither am I." She blew softly in his ear and even her iron grip on him couldn't suppress the shudder. "Oh, and Mags says hello."

What the fuck? Since when could she do _that_? Magneto's gifts should have faded from her grasp long ago.

He was unable to do anything but watch her walk away.

By the time she'd let him go, there was no sign of her. He stood in the parking lot, a little in awe despite the seething waves of anger washing through him. No scent. No footprints. No trace.

Nothing but a gauntlet he was more than happy to pick up.

Looking back on their encounter, he realized she hadn't rejected him. She hadn't even refused to answer a single question he'd put to her, despite the rough, antagonistic delivery. She said she'd talk. She just wanted a level playing field. This wasn't a killing blow. Far from it. The predator in him recognized it for what it was.

An invitation to play.

And for the first time, he accepted without guilt or shame or the fear he might slip and let the animal free. It was clear he didn't need those shackles now. Not with her. Not anymore.

The Wolverine smiled and turned his face into the wind.

* * *

Up next: **The Truth**. The Wolverine goes hunting and finds an olive branch by way of egg roll and a long overdue conversation...


	14. The Truth

It took longer to find her this time. Logan hadn't been expecting Marie to choose a nicer hotel closer to the heart of the city. Perhaps it had been his own preference coloring his expectations, but he had been thinking more along the lines of the kind of place where a brawl in the parking lot wouldn't draw too much attention. At least some place where raised voices wouldn't immediately bring concerned citizens. What was her game? He couldn't quite work it out.

It didn't help that he felt like hammered shit. He hadn't slept in two days but he knew he wouldn't be able to rest until after he'd seen Marie. He was too wound up to sleep. He had a few drinks instead and took a long walk in the crisp fall wind to clear his head. There was a lot on his mind and he felt like the coming confrontation would probably benefit from a little introspection. He wanted his say, but he didn't want to kill her, and his blood was up. The longer he walked, the more certain things became clear. Little pieces began to fall into place revealing a larger picture. His mood grew blacker.

Night fell. This time when he knocked on her door, he came empty handed because they were closed into fists.

Marie opened the door. She took in the look in his dark, hooded eyes and the tension in his jaw. She didn't miss his clenched hands. He was primed for a fight.

"I'm sorry, Logan."

He looked at her as if she'd grown another head. That was the last thing he ever thought would come out of her mouth. He'd expected World War III. He almost preferred the fight. At least there, he could hold his own. This openness was infinitely harder. People healed from a fight. He was still bleeding from their last painful exchange of words.

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't really together before. I know that's not an excuse, but none of that happened how I thought it would. I never imagined you finding me like that and it kinda threw me. There's so much I want to say. I need you to know that's not who I am. Well, it is. But it's not who I want to be with _you_." He could hear how fast her heart was beating. He felt like he was seeing the real her for the first time in years and that just pissed him off more.

His hands did not uncurl.

"How much?" he ground out.

"How much what?"

"How much of before was an act."

That's what had been niggling at the back of his mind. Marie was direct. She had big feelings and they ran deep... but she was private. That little stunt with Magneto's powers had been too showy, too grandiose. It had to have been an act. A show for his benefit. Once he'd worked that out, it was only a small jump to wondering how much of their previous interactions had been an act. Lies to cover up a truth Marie couldn't bear.

"Magneto put it over the top?" It hadn't felt right then, either. She'd just been so unsettled and mad. There was a healthy dose of shame in there too.

He nodded curtly. "How much?"

"All of it," she said simply, opening the door wider in invitation.

Her soft words struck with an impact far worse than any physical blow.

He pushed his way in and then leaned back against the closed door with the precise, overly-controlled movements of a man clearly on the edge. There was no way he was doing this in the hall. He didn't want any witnesses.

"For how long?" Red was beginning to creep in around the edges of his vision. He wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze. How could she do that to him? To _them_?

"Since Tibet."

_I see everything. All your shame._

"Even-"

She knew exactly what he was asking.

"Everything." She wanted to look away because seeing the pain in his face hurt too much, but she owed him this. This was her fault, her failing and she should be made to see every bit of the damage she'd caused. She held his eyes. "Especially that. I'm sorry. I know the words aren't enough. I'd open myself up and bleed for you if I could."

His brows drew together. Even that didn't satisfy his bloodlust. A deep growl rumbled low in his chest and the chaotic swirl of emotions churning inside of him escalated from anger to rage. "Do you think knowin' it was an act makes it okay? You think an apology makes it better?"

"No. I know it's broken now. Damaged beyond repair. I get that. I do. But I used to be a straight shooter with you and I'd like to be that again. Not because I deserve it. God knows I don't. And not because I gave you a second chance. But because I need it and I think you do, too."

He was going to take her apart. If it wasn't with his fists, it would be with words. She would bleed.

"You have no fuckin' idea what I need."

"I'm beginning to understand that I never really did."

"Hmph." Even that didn't take the wind out of his sails.

"You want to hurt me."

His eyes jumped sharply to hers. She was right. He did. He simply growled at her because he couldn't force the words out through his clenched teeth.

"It's okay. I wanted to hurt you for a long time too. What I said that night...? I told myself it was because I wanted you to be free. And I did. But I now I know that I wanted to hurt you too. To punish you for— "

"Not pickin' you first."

"No. That — that hurt. But it wasn't that. I even kinda made my peace with that after a while. Loving people and being loved by them? That's not wrong."

"What then? Was it gettin' all my screwed-up shit in your head? Pollutin' you with that? Claw-rapin' you?"

Her eyes flashed. "No! That's awful. I've never thought of it that way. I never wanted you to ever hear those horrible words. What I got from you — those are the brightest places in me. The best places."

He snorted, his disdain and disbelief crystal clear.

"What then? What was worth guttin' me like that?"

"After the lily pond, I felt..."

"Angry? Disappointed?"

"Abandoned," she said quietly. "Broken."

Broken.

That he understood all too well.

"I couldn't carry you then. I was sinkin' too fast. It woulda pulled you down too."

"I know that _now_ , but then? Then it was just one loss too many. I'd already lost my dad and Scott and Charles—"

"I ain't your father." There was some real heat there.

"No. But you're the best man I know. The one I measure all other men against."

"Mmph." Disbelief, rude and abrasive. He was still completely closed to her. He probably always would be, but he still deserved the truth.

"I guess when you lose one father figure, you sometimes wind up dancing in a strip club. When you lose four in three years and you've got deadly skin, you wind up in a merc camp looking for validation from any hardass with a soft spot."

"That's what that was about?"

"Some. Most of it was methodical. Building the Rogue. She's a construct. Or she was."

"Was?"

"It's...complicated. I was kinda hoping that maybe— maybe you want to talk about it over dinner? I ordered in Chinese. We both have to eat. No reason we can't do that together."

Logan recognized his long-ago words in her invitation and realized this was the first time since the lily pond that she'd reached out to _him_. It was significant enough that it overrode his anger momentarily. He knew she could see him wavering.

"It's in the microwave." That explained why he couldn't smell it. "You took longer than I thought you would."

"Found ya hours ago. I was takin' a walk," he finally allowed.

"A walk? It's twenty degrees outside!"

"Don't hurt me none."

The Mississippi in her soul shivered in sympathy. He had to be freezing. "Don't you have any sense?"

"I'm here, ain't I?" he said dryly.

She didn't know how to feel about that.

"I have bourbon chicken, General Tso's and ginger beef..." His three favorites. "Plus hot tea, egg rolls, lo mein, pot stickers, fried rice and fortune cookies... I might even be tempted to share my honey walnut prawns." A good meal would bring satisfaction, but not exactly the kind he was after.

His brow arched. "Thought you were a vegetarian?"

"You're not." She'd ordered with him in mind. Her smile was lopsided. "Granted it's not cigars and bourbon, but we all have vices, sugar. Prawns are my kryptonite." Prawns and Wolverines.

"I could eat."

"And talk...? Or maybe just listen a little?" She didn't want to press too hard. "You can still throw down and try to kick my ass after if you want."

"Try?" The word irritated him as much as the banal delivery. She wasn't even bragging. It had been a casual, offhand comment.

"Try," she said softly. "I— I have a lot to say, to tell you about."

"I agreed to eat with you. Don't mistake that for forgiveness." He wasn't about to let her eviscerate him again.

"I get it. I'm not asking for that, okay? I know that's off the table now. I'm just grateful for the chance to talk to you." Her heart lurched painfully, but she was determined to see this through, despite the personal cost.

Logan couldn't quite get over the shift in her. She was so different this time.

He looked at her then and really saw her for the first time. She was wearing soft white lounge pants and a clingy, long-sleeved shirt the color of old rust. It made her eyes look startlingly green. Her face was scrubbed clean and her hair was loose and shiny around her shoulders. No gloves. No socks. Nothing hidden. Nothing covered. She looked very young. She'd had a shower. She only smelled like herself now. Just a fresh snowfall. No redhead. No incense.

She looked... soft.

"You smell different."

"Good different or bad different?"

"When I first metcha, it was fresh snow and the scent of an open road. After Tibet, it was fresh snow over incense. Now it's just fresh snow again." That's always what her scent had been to him. Clean. Pure.

"I don't need the incense to quiet the voices when I meditate anymore."

"What?"

"Sugar, you're at the finish line and I need to start at the beginning if it's gonna make any sense." Her smile was tentative but warm and shockingly open. "I have Molson and a bottle of good bourbon, too."

"You shoulda led with that, kid."

Shrugging out of his jacket, he sat at the small table and allowed her to serve him, watching her with a wary expression as if he expected her to try to rip his heart out at any moment. She understood why he'd think that, but it still hurt.

"Kid? I'll be thirty this year." She heated the food and brought the little white cartons to the table in waves, handing him a steaming cup of hot tea, a Molson and a pair of chopsticks. He took a long swallow off the beer, but she didn't miss the way he wrapped his hands around the hot mug.

"You barely look old enough to buy these drinks." He meant it. It wasn't hollow flattery.

"We'll get to that, too," she said cryptically. Before he could ask about it, she cursed quietly under her breath. "Damn." He looked over. "Whenever I get the order with chopsticks instead of silverware, they always forget to put in a knife." Cutting egg rolls in half and eating them from the center outward was one of her little quirks. A Marieism he'd forgotten over the years. She'd always said they sucked up more sauce that way. The warmth of that old memory surprised him.

Logan raised a fist casually and Marie rolled her eyes before retrieving a butterfly knife from her pack.

"Let's not tempt fate, huh?" It probably would be better all around if they managed to get through this evening with his claws sheathed.

He grunted softly.

"S'your show. Whatcha got on deck?"

Whatever it was, it better be damned good. The Wolverine was off the leash and he was going to get his pound of flesh, one way or another...

* * *

Up next: **The Scar**. You can't have the kind of history these two do without it leaving a mark.


	15. The Scar

"Well, before I jump into all that, I just want to say that it's okay to stop me if you have any questions. Whatever you need, okay? I'll try to answer them, even if they're hard. I owe you that much."

Logan wasn't sure what had changed with her and her abrupt about-face had him confused and on edge. He could tell she was really laying it all on the line, making herself completely vulnerable to him, and he tried not to be swayed by that. He wasn't about to be taken in again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice and something was going to get clawed.

"Why now?" It was really bugging him. He couldn't sit and listen to what she had to say unless he could make sense of why she was saying it to begin with.

"Because things are different now. I'm different now." Carol had changed everything. "I've done a lot of thinking since the last time we were together and it all pretty much boils down to me taking a hard look at myself and seeing some painful things in there, and in our history, that I want to try to make better. Not just for me- for you, too."

He snorted. "So this is what? Step nine of twelve? Make amends to the people you fucked over? Maybe I don't want what you're sellin'."

She stiffened at the cold edge in his harsh words, but she knew she deserved them and more. He didn't storm off, or even get up from the table so she felt like that was at least a little promising, despite his obvious irritation.

"No. This is me trying to figure out how to live with myself. I'm tired of the pain. Aren't you?"

"Hmph." That hit a little too close to home.

"I want us to stop hurting each other. We're both good at it and I just don't want to do that anymore. I want to be different with you."

Logan thought about this morning. "Coulda fooled me."

"I'm sorry about that. I can see why it probably didn't seem like it. For the record though, is anyone really at their best when they're that hung over and a pissy Wolverine is dragging them out of bed at the buttcrack of dawn?"

He felt a glimmer of something that might have been macabre amusement.

"Fair enough." That much he could understand, at least. He probably wouldn't have been too sunny either if their positions had been reversed. She'd have likely gotten a clawing for her trouble. All she'd given him was the sharp side of her tongue.

"If it's okay, I'd really like to try." She wanted to make things better between them so badly. It would never be like it was, but she couldn't keep living this way. It hurt too much. He was hurting, too. It was all over him.

"Mmph." He picked up his chopsticks and started eating, his assent implied by that simple action. Marie didn't hesitate. That was likely as good as it was going to get.

"So, Bali? We should start there, I guess."

"No."

"No?"

"You said in order."

"That's where it started, unless you want to talk about the lily pond."

He made a face. He had no desire to revisit that moment in time. It was something else that he wanted to know.

"Why Scott?"

"Oh." He certainly wasn't going to make this easy for her, that much was clear. "I can see why you'd want to start there. To know that, I mean. That — well, that wasn't planned or anything. I didn't set out to hurt you or step out on Bobby. Scott...well, we were pretty good friends to tell the truth. You — you were gone a lot and he sort of naturally stepped into that void. Sort of like the big brother I never had but always wanted."

"You don't fuck a big brother."

She winced but kept going. "We had a lot in common, actually. I don't know if you knew this, but he'd been on the road once too. We sort of bonded over that and our mutual appreciation for indie rock bands, Turkish coffee and Ren and Stimpy cartoons. He'd also had a crush on someone older and had taken a lot of crap for it. He not only understood how I felt about you but was probably the only person at the school who actually approved."

"Bullshit."

She let that go because she knew he could smell the truth on her, whatever he said to the contrary.

"We got closer after Jean died. One night I went to talk to him about Bobby after his growing interest in Kitty became too much to stand. For the male perspective, you know? I found him drinking a bottle of Patron Silver that Jean had given him on his last birthday. We wound up getting completely smashed."

"And it just 'sorta happened'?" His voice was heavily laced with sarcasm. All that was missing were the air quotes.

"Um. No. Not really. It was a conscious choice. A drunk one, but still conscious."

He waited in silence, obviously not satisfied.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. You were gone. Jean was gone. Bobby wasn't quite gone yet, but he was half way into Kitty's pants and too terrified of me to try anything even if he wasn't. We were both hurting. I don't think Scott was unafraid of my skin so much as it was he didn't care if he died. I wanted it to be with someone I cared about. Where it meant something."

"Did it?"

"Not really, no. It was gentle. We both cried. He said Jean's name, not mine." It eased her guilt because she'd been thinking of Logan. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

"You come?" He wasn't sure which one of them he was trying to punish.

"What kind of question is that? Christ!" She could feel her own temper flare and tried to push it back, but while she was willing to be open, she didn't want to be his punching bag. That wasn't going to fix anything.

"You said anythin' goes. Answer it or I walk."

She understood it was less a threat and more that he was hoping for some sort of bolt hole. _No chance of that, sugar._

"Yes. Twice," she added neutrally, anticipating his next question. "And then I threw up in his bathroom afterwards." Then she'd taken a long, hot shower in there while Scott had pretended to sleep.

"Good." It was childish, but it still felt good to say.

"How did you even know?" She hadn't even known Logan was back until he'd turned up with Storm in the lower levels for their urban combat class.

"You're kiddin', right?" He'd gotten in late that night and had immediately gone looking for her. Her room had been empty. "I was in the Danger Room with you that mornin'. You smelled like you'd just crawled out of his damned bed. His stink was all over you. There was more of him comin' outta your pores than the fuckin' tequila you drank."

"God." She'd had no idea. Her face flamed.

Even though she'd had a shower, he'd still been able to smell the traces of blood and semen and the distinctive citron shampoo Jean liked that Scott had kept using after she died. Under it all was Scott's scent, aftershave and sweat and a dark pitchy spice he used to catch on Jean all too often.

"Why'd you think I was so hard on ya? I was fuckin' pissed." Pissed and deeply hurt. So much so that he'd ended the exercise early and then gotten the hell out of there without even looking at Marie. He'd fought with Storm in the hall and even then it was all he could do not to turn and yell at the woman who'd really been the focus of his ire.

Marie flinched. "I had no idea you were even back! I was late and hungover and I nearly died when you walked in behind Storm." She gave up her beer for a big glass of bourbon. "I was so distracted I practically sleepwalked through that entire exercise."

He agreed. Her performance had been piss-poor. "Hmph. I ran into One-Eye in the hall after." Scott hadn't showered and the scent of Marie's pleasure all over him had the Wolverine a few deep breaths away from homicidal. "He stunk of you and guilt and I gave him some shit about moving on from Jean just to turn the screws because we both knew he already had."

"That wasn't nice."

"Screw nice. He'd just fucked my—" he caught himself and abruptly shut his mouth.

"Go on. Say it."

"My girl, okay? He'd just fucked my girl. Happy now?"

"No." She hadn't really been happy since the night by the lily pond, except for a handful of stolen moments curled on Logan's chest in the afterglow before her cruel words had eviscerated them both.

"I kinda thought it would be the little snowflake." She noticed he'd taken the bottle of bourbon for himself and was making a pretty good dent in it while refilling her glass generously and often.

"Me too. Only that was a bigger joke than even you thought."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I tried, I really did. I think he did too, at least in the beginning. I wanted to be normal. To have a boyfriend my own age, only he felt like a kid to me. Like a little boy. And then I realized that's how I felt to you. Like a kid. A baby. I couldn't even take him seriously. He was—"

"Hey, I always took you seriously."

"I know. It's just I was so much bigger than him. In here." She tapped her temple. "I was too much for him. For all of them, really. It's kind of ironic. Scott's the youngest lover I've ever had. He was thirty-three and still felt like a kid to me."

"That's why Bali?"

"Yes and no. It wasn't just that. I'm- I'm not right. Even before I had anyone in my head. I wasn't _right_."

"Whaddya mean?"

"I wanted things." The alcohol was helping the words flow. She'd have never been able to say them otherwise.

"What kind of things?"

"Sex things. Passionate. Rough. I wanted to be bitten and grabbed all over and held down and for it to be okay to be wild and out of control; to know I can make someone else out of control. I wanted to feel taken so I could feel like I belonged to someone." She was blushing and Logan's drink had stopped halfway to his mouth. "Not degraded or humiliated. Nothing like that. But nothing in my head was like anything my old friends talked about. I felt weird even then. Even when it was just me up there."

"Weird how?" It was difficult keeping his voice even.

"Like they were dreaming of making love on a bed of rose petals and everything was all soft and hazy and romantic and what was in my head was wild and sweaty and real. Sometimes sweet and tender but still crude and... you know, raunchy. Dirty, even. Hard up against the wall. Teeth on my neck. That kind of stuff. They were dreaming of falling asleep after in satin sheets and I was thinking about curling up with my face on his thigh so I could feel him and smell him all night long, even while I slept."

"Jesus," he muttered. Heat prickled sharply under his arms and between his legs. All of that sounded entirely too good and like nothing he'd ever imagined she'd want. He wasn't even sure he believed her even though her scent said she was telling the truth. It was surreal. His sweet little Marie had wanted _that_?

"I couldn't tell you that at seventeen or eighteen or nineteen. I can barely say it now at twenty-nine. Back then it would have ruined how you saw me and sent you running for the hills. You'd put a little girl up on a pedestal and refused to let her budge, or grow up, or even get life all over her. I'm not innocent little Marie. I never was. I was afraid of what would happen if you knew and I was too chickenshit to tell you when I had the chance. By the time I was nineteen you were already gone for good."

She could tell she'd shocked him.

"So that's what Bali was? Exploring that?" He felt the choking tide of jealousy.

"No. Bali was me running from the pain. I couldn't stand being in my own skin anymore. It hurt too much. I just wanted to, like, unzip myself and step out of the pain and be someone else. I wanted that so much. You were my family. I loved you more than my own life. You asked me to let you go, and I accepted that burden gladly because it felt good to finally be able to give you something you needed for a change, but after I did, there was nothing left for me to hold on to. So I ran. Bali was me hiding from the pain...and from what I was...and from what I wanted. I was terrified. I tried to be someone else. Tried to lose myself in that and to be satisfied with what people say you're supposed to want. It never worked, so I'd move on and tell myself maybe it was just the wrong partner. That next time it would be enough."

"How'd that work out for ya?" He was still angry; at Marie for her youth, at those men for touching her, and at himself most of all.

"It didn't." She snorted. "I spent a year in Tibet trying to give up that person before I finally began to accept who and what I am. It's not pretty or nice, but it's me."

That got to him. "There ain't anythin' wrong with you, kid." She'd always been beautiful to him, inside and out. Even when she was pissing him the hell off.

"No? I think my track record would suggest otherwise. I'm just not right," her voice was sad but resigned. "I'm— "

"Submissive?" he ventured quietly. That was the Wolverine's bell rung. He'd walked in here tonight with the Wolverine completely unleashed and she had his entire focus now.

"I'm not even sure that's the right word. I don't know if there is a word for what I am. I'm not even a person. I'm a collective. A plural being. I've always felt like I was too much for everyone else. I shouldn't have to make myself be less so my partner feels like more, you know? I want an equal, not a master. Now that will never happen."

"You sound pretty sure."

"That's because you don't understand."

"Tell me then." He pushed away the last white carton and sat back in his chair, stretching out his long legs, drink dangling from his fingers.

"I came back from Tibet with a plan to build the Rogue. I never wanted to feel afraid again, or ashamed, or to let anyone close enough to hurt me the way you did. Rogue started out as a construct. I built her very carefully. I didn't want to be that scared starving girl on a snowy road, or that terrified girl screaming for someone to save her from Magneto's machine, or that girl sitting with you at the lily pond, or the woman running from who and what she was. Rogue was my armor."

"That ain't so bad. I have a set of that, too." He lifted his arm and the claws snapped out quick and violent. He welcomed the pain in his hand, hoping it would ease its grip on his chest.

"I know you do, sugar. I'm sorry you need it but I'm glad you have it." He nodded, accepting her words as they were meant. Not pity. Not even understanding. It was acknowledgement of shared pain.

"Is that how you feel about the Rogue?"

"It's more complicated than that. I felt like that about it in the beginning. I loved learning more. Making her stronger. The training and the camps and the missions. All of it. It fit me. But inside I was falling apart, a strange matrix of walls and boxes to contain all the different voices. Marie was lost in the chaos. A whisper in a hurricane. I lived that way a long time. Too long."

He ached for her. He had no idea she'd been dealing with all of that. "I'm sorry, kid. I didn't know 'bout any of that shit. I just felt you slippin' away. That's why I kept naggin'. Kept callin' the firecracker and kept after you to have a drink with me. Even then I was still bein' selfish. Thinkin' of myself and not puttin' you first. I didn't wanna lose you." He couldn't say the rest. He didn't want to lose the part of her that saw him in a good way. There weren't many people who looked at him and saw anything but a killer. It was pretty much just her.

"Is that why you followed me that night in Westchester?"

"Yeah."

"I tried to be the Rogue with you that night. I tried so hard. Marie still leaked through and it terrified me. She saw how much you were hurting and wanted you to be free. Rogue wanted to punish you. To hurt you and push you away."

He saluted her with the bottle. "Mission accomplished." He could tell his harsh words had stung her. While he wasn't sorry, he was realizing he didn't take as much pleasure in it as he imagined he might. "You gave us a first time," he said more softly.

"It wasn't a real first time." She gave him a watery smile. "Nobody bled."

"Somebody did. It just wasn't you." His words were tight.

"I'm so sorry, Logan." Her eyes were shining wetly. "For a long time all I wished was that I could take back those words. But now I think maybe I needed to say them and you needed to hear them— "

A snarl rose in his throat.

"Even though they were mostly lies."

The snarl got louder and his claws slid out a few inches.

"The part about my insecurity about my skin and about not being enough for you and being afraid you'd resent me — that part was true. But I needed you to know how deeply you hurt me. It was like you took all my power. I needed to take it back. I wanted us to be equal again."

She hung her head.

"It's stupid and I know it doesn't make any sense. I wanted you to be free to stop hurting. But I also knew I couldn't ever be with you at some future point without putting us back on even footing, except in doing so, I killed any chance of that ever happening."

He stared at her, absorbing her words and saying nothing. She could tell his outward calm was deceptive. He was seething underneath, on the edge of true violence.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you do after I left?"

His eyes were cold and hard. "I died. In here." He tapped his chest.

She was shaking now, but her eyes were dry. _Oh, sugar. I broke me, too._ "I— "

"Don't you fuckin' dare say you're sorry again. It doesn't mean shit to me now." That wasn't quite true. He didn't _want_ it to mean anything; a small distinction, but an important one.

"I know," she said miserably. "I wasn't careful with your tender places. I was deliberately cruel and I don't blame you for not trusting me with them anymore."

He ignored her.

"What did you do after? Go drinkin' to celebrate?"

"No."

"Answer the fuckin' question! What did you do?"

She put her arm on the table between them and pushed up her sleeve. The pink scar was easily discernible against her milky skin, following the faint tracing of blue veins from the inside of her wrist to her elbow.

"This. I did this."

* * *

Up next: **The Spark**. He knew a mortal wound when he saw one. He'd inflicted enough of them over the years to know. The walls finally begin to come down. Marie opens her heart. The Wolverine listens. **  
**


	16. The Spark

The truth was ugly and raw and shocking. It cut a hot swath through his anger and touched a soft place in him he thought long dead. There was something there. Not enough to even be called a flickering light.

It was the faintest spark.

Logan traced the line from elbow to wrist with his thumb and took her hand in his. He was ashamed that he hadn't noticed the scar earlier. She'd been naked this morning, but his eyes hadn't exactly been on her arm. Just more proof he was the asshole everyone thought he was.

"I never wanted that for ya, kid."

" _I_ wanted that for me."

"Jesus, darlin'." She was killing him.

He knew a mortal wound when he saw one. He'd inflicted enough of them over the years to know. He also had multiple sets of similar scars. It was just nobody but him could see them.

She smiled at him then, but her eyes were tired. The miles she'd put on in the last few years had been the hard kind. They'd left her weary and burned out. "You saved me even then. There was enough of you left in me that it healed just enough to keep me from bleeding out. I never told anyone."

"I'm glad." He'd hated the cruel kiss she'd given him that night, hated it right up until this very moment. Now he was so thankful for the touch that had allowed her to take his healing. So glad he could help her for once instead of making things worse. He had been hurt, but he'd never wanted her dead. He couldn't even think about that without feeling the blackness descend.

"I wasn't glad. Not for a long time." If he'd had a heart left, it would have been twisting in his chest. "But I am now. I'm so grateful. Even if this moment is all we ever get, I want you to know that."

He was unable push the words past the thick, heavy feeling in his throat. He touched her arm instead.

He couldn't even begin to process all of that. It was too much. He was overwhelmed. Another part of him was terrified at how close he'd come to losing her. Really, truly losing her. The idea that his last words to her could have been ones spoken in anger was deeply disturbing.

He had misjudged the depth of her emotion.

And her pain.

He imagined she'd left him and hit a bar to celebrate finally kicking him to the curb for good, just like Jubilee had said she would. He'd never once considered her pain had been just as deep. That she'd suffered so much she'd wanted to die, too. He didn't like that. And he really didn't like the realization that he had been so profoundly wrong about someone he'd prided himself on knowing better than anyone.

They'd both made so many mistakes.

His thumb brushed back and forth against her skin, an unconscious desire to soothe her hurts.

Near the faint pink scar there were two small, delicate bird tattoos on the inside of her wrist, no bigger than a pencil eraser. Swallows, he thought. He rubbed them with his thumb. Freedom? The return home after a struggle? A hardship survived? Love and loyalty? He wasn't sure he was ready for the answer.

"Tell me about Carol," he said instead.

She did. She knelt at his feet and put her head on his knee. He stroked her hair and she told him about the safe, white place inside her mind. About the army. About Charles and Jean. About Mariko and his daughter. About Logan and Patch. About hearing his words and how they saved her. About the beautiful silvery light.

He was astonished.

"You really see me like that?"

"I do."

"Even now?"

"Always."

The pain gripping him eased slightly. It felt like he could breathe again for the first time in years.

He had no idea what to do or to say now. No words were coming. His instinct was just to touch her, and so he did; gently stroking her hair while she cried.

Eventually, she allowed him to pull her up to sit across his lap, an echo of that night by the lily pond so long ago.

"However you feel about all that is okay, Logan. I— I don't expect anything. I'm not looking for you to forgive me just because the Patch in my head did. I just want you to know the truth. How beautiful you are to me. How strong and good. How much I appreciate what you did for me despite what it cost you."

Logan couldn't even begin to go _there_. Deflection was easier.

He huffed. "I ain't a good man. Not even a little."

"Why? Because Jean said so?"

"I don't wanna talk about Jeannie with you."

"She was right, you know."

His eyes widened slightly. He'd not expected that, not in this fragile moment of tentative beginnings.

"You weren't good for her. You weren't her good guy. You were mine."

There was probably more truth there than he cared to own. "I was." He felt the rightness of that flash clear through him and settle deep.

"Once upon a time, huh?"

"I wanted to give you that fantasy once."

"I know." She sighed softly. "I wish I'd been in a place where I could have let you... but I think as nice as it would have been, that reality is better. Stories end, you know? Life goes on."

"It's been almost a year since you woke up from Carol. If that's really whatcha feel, why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?"

It was a fair question.

"Would you have listened?"

"Probably not at first," he admitted quietly. "That was a fuckin' dark place. Full of rage and full of pain. It still is."

"You're listening now."

His fingers left her hair to touch her scar again. "I am."

"The missions weren't more important than you. I just needed time."

"A whole fuckin' year of it?" The words came out sharp. No surprise there. That's how they felt inside, too.

"More, probably, judging by how I reacted this morning when I first saw you. Fighting Carol changed me."

"How?"

"I used to think of the people in my head as pieces of broken glass. Lots of colors and confusion, lots of detail but lots of missing pieces too. I wove those pieces into Rogue along with the skills I learned. She was like a colorful suit of armor that I could put on when I needed her. Carol shattered all the shards. When I took Patch's hand, it was...atomic."

"The light?"

"Yes. The light was love. It was incendiary. Incandescent. It razed everything to the ground, burned out Carol and fused all the fractured shards into one solid piece. There are no more voices now because they are all a part of me. We have one voice now. Mine. There is no suit. There's just a beautiful glass sculpture that I made with Patch. Marie is the core, but I'm also little pieces of everyone else. It's smooth and solid and I don't have to fight to hear myself anymore. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah. So no more Marie, it's just Rogue now?"

"Not really, no. No more than Neo stopped being Neo when he was in the Matrix and they started uploading programs into his head. I'm still me. I'm just...more." She knew he'd appreciate that and that he'd readily understand the comparison. Logan's love of good sci-fi was second only to his love of a bloody hockey game. "Once I embraced everyone instead of trying to lock them all away in boxes, control was embarrassingly easy, not just of my skin, but of the mutations I've absorbed. Charles was wrong. I don't just get them for a short while. They're mine forever and touching them is easy now."

It was too much to take in at once.

"Am I still up there?"

"You're the light, sugar. Without you that beautiful glass is just a cold lump of slag."

"I dunno how I feel about that." He liked it and it scared the shit out of him at the same time.

"That's okay. I'm still getting used to it too."

"That's why you didn't come to me?"

"Partly. Carol also left me with some parting gifts that I'm still trying to accept."

"The eyes, yeah. That woulda fucked with me too. And the flyin'... Jesus—"

"And super strength. I still feel ridiculous saying it, but yeah. That too."

"Super strength? Like what?"

"Like lifting a car the way a child plays with a Matchbox toy. Like snapping Hank's arm like twig," her voice was barely a whisper. "Like almost killing Bobby with the flick of my hand. Like—"

"Shh. That wasn't you. You didn't do that shit. That was her."

She held him tighter. "I'm glad I won. I'm glad _we_ won. I'm glad you didn't have to come."

That's all she could bring herself to say about that. Even when he was in terrible pain, pain she'd caused, he had been there for her when it counted. After everything they'd done to each other, after all of the water that had flowed under that old bridge, he'd stood with her so she wouldn't be alone. The selflessness of that moved her still. It was the heart of everything they were to each other when the pain and hurt was stripped away. It was so profound, so deeply intimate she couldn't even bring herself to whisper the words aloud. She squeezed his hand instead.

"Me too." He seemed to understand her inability to articulate that experience in more detail. He felt the same way. His eyes were tender.

"Logan, do you remember how you felt when you realized, really realized you probably couldn't die?"

She felt him shudder.

"Yeah." There was a wealth of pain in that one clipped word.

"Now imagine you'd just worked it out— only inside your head is someone with the painful knowledge of what eternity really means. How it feels and the terrible weight of it."

"Sounds pretty shitty, but I don't see how—"

"My skin is invulnerable now."

"To what?"

"Everything. Needles. Bullets. Fire. Stabbing weapons. Chemical agents."

"Jesus."

"Smaller things too. Radiation. Pathogens. Bacteria... Free radicals." She swallowed. "Do you know what that means?"

"Agin', right?"

"Yes. Between my skin and the healing I got from you, Hank thinks there's a pretty good chance I'm never gonna look older than I do right now. I've had your healing since I was seventeen, even though I couldn't fully access it until the Carol thing. That's why I look the way I do now." She barely looked twenty-one. Now she'd stopped aging altogether. "I'm never gonna get to grow old with someone."

There were tears now, sliding silently down her face. Her head was tucked under his chin but he could smell them.

"I know, darlin'." He knew that pain all too well and there was nothing he could say that would make it better so he just rubbed her back and rocked her gently.

"That's what took so long. I had to deal with that. Had to mourn the loss of my old life. Had to let a lot of old dreams go before I was ready to talk to you."

"I get it now."

She laughed quietly.

"What?"

"That's what Patch said just before I took his hand and the world went up in flames."

"Hmph."

"You know, it might happen again — only out here this time. Someday it might just be you and me watching the end of the world together."

"I'll save ya a seat."

She smiled sadly. "Thanks."

"You really got all the mutations of everyone you touched?"

Her smile faded. "Yeah."

"Even mine? The claws?"

"They're bone, but yeah. You can feel them here." She put her hand up and he could see three bumps appear under her skin between her knuckles. "They don't come out though. My skin is invulnerable from both sides, apparently."

"I'm glad you don't have that," he said quietly. "Show me another."

It took a moment to sift through them. Most of them weren't appropriate for close quarters or the indoors. John's fire. Scott's optic blasts. Remy's kinetic charges. Jubilee's plasma bursts.

She took his hand in hers, palm up and cupped her palm over his. Logan could feel the sharp swirl of tiny ice crystals and a sensation of cold. Light flickered between their fingers and when she moved her hand away, a delicate origami crane of glittering ice sat in his palm.

It couldn't have been a more personal, revealing gift. Logan was stunned. That was the third crane she'd given him now. He wondered if she was consciously aware of the significance. It went a long way towards mending his wounded heart.

"S'beautiful." He couldn't bring himself to put it down. It melted in his fingers and he brushed the water over her lips and then his. The rest he wiped on his shirt, just over his heart.

"Why did we never talk about that night I tried to wake you up, Logan? I talked to Jean about it. And Hank. And Charles, but never you. Never in all these years."

"Some things run too deep for words, kid."

"You saved me, you know. Just like you saved Jean and Mariko and your daughter. You saved us all."

"That's a lie." She was unraveling the tortured, ragged edges of his soul one quiet revelation at a time.

"It's not," she whispered. "You can smell the truth. I have them all inside me now. They're a part of me and I can tell you that they only feel love and gratitude and peace."

He closed his eyes against the sting.

"It's just that. Nothing bad. Your daughter's not so quiet in her peace, though. There's laughter in her and light and playful growls." She kissed away the tears at the corners of his eyes the way she'd done at the lily pond more than a decade ago and touched her forehead to his. "There's no glorious sadness in her. There's just love."

"Thank you." His voice was thick and rough.

There was so much more he wanted to say but he couldn't force the words out past the lump in his throat.

Soon.

Soon.

* * *

Up next: **The Blade**. In which a request is made. Her skin is invulnerable. The only thing she hasn't tried yet is adamantium...


	17. The Blade

Logan struggled to find balance.

It was too much, this emotional outpouring from her after a decade of drought. The influx was shocking. He couldn't speak. He could barely breathe. His eyes stung. His heart, too. She had taken his walls apart, brick by brick. He could rebuild them, but they'd never be the same again and she wouldn't be breaking herself against the outside. Not anymore. She was in so deep now he'd never get her out.

They were both quiet long minutes while Logan regained his composure.

She didn't rush him. She simply sat on his lap, curled contentedly under his chin while she waited for him to get himself together. It took longer than he thought. He was shattered. When he could climb up out of himself, it was the desire to touch her that first returned to his awareness. His arm tightened around her but they still didn't speak. They simply breathed together in the silence.

He needed to focus on her because he simply couldn't deal with everything that was going on inside him right now. He needed time.

Slowly, he ran his thumb over her soft cheek, down the line of her throat and across her collarbone. "I can't imagine anythin' so soft being invulnerable, darlin'."

Before he knew what she was doing, she picked up the butterfly knife from the table and plunged it at her chest, just above the modest cleavage on display. It skated sickeningly along her creamy skin. Logan blanched but nothing happened aside from her sharp intake of air. It didn't even leave a scratch. Marie winced and shuddered. She might be invulnerable, but she still felt the cutting pain. In fact, her skin was more sensitive now than it had ever been.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ! Don't ever do that again!" He took the blade from her fingers with a black scowl, testing it absently with his thumb while he was busy checking her skin for injury. He sucked in a quick breath when the razor sharp edge bit deeply into his flesh. "Shit," he muttered, sucking the stinging wound as it healed. He chuckled darkly at the irony of what had just happened as he tossed the knife back on the table. "It's always the little ones that sting like a bitch, huh?"

She had the urge to kiss him, to chase after the coppery flash on his tongue, and she pushed it down.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay, see?"

He did, but it would have scared the shit of him even before what she'd confessed to him tonight. She was entirely too cavalier about putting a knife to her skin for someone who'd tried to take her own life.

"I never wanna see you do that again, you hear me?" He ran his fingers over the path the blade had taken to reassure himself that she was whole and unharmed. She shivered at the intimate touch. He seemed not to realize his fingertips were on her breast until her breath caught. That got his attention.

"Loud and clear, sugar."

"Good," he grunted, rubbing his fingers over the invisible trail once more before removing his hand from her breast.

Her expression softened and she took his hand in hers. "Just- just so you know, I wouldn't hurt myself again, even if I could."

"I know, kid." He felt the truth of that down to his bones and was unable to resist pressing a soft kiss to her hair.

"I never want to do that again. I never will. I'm promising you that right now. What I did to test it- that wasn't about hurting myself. I just had to find my limits. I needed to know myself. All of myself."

"I get it." She'd always been like that, even as a kid. She always wanted to know where the boundaries were so she could dance right up to the line. She'd always liked living on the edge.

"I've tried everything," she admitted softly. Logan didn't much like the sound of that. Even the idea of her testing it unsettled him. Bullets? Stabbing weapons? Fire? How many times had she needlessly hurt herself? He'd seen the flash of pain on her face just now. He knew how sensitive her skin was.

"I don't- That sounds real bad, tryin' everythin'." He didn't like that. Not one damn bit. There wasn't any scenario where he could be on board with Marie being shot or stabbed or burned. And just who the fuck had done that to her? That Cajun prick? The snowflake? "Who?"

"Who what?"

"Who did that to ya. Shot ya and burned ya." He wasn't aware a low growl was coming out of him.

Marie could see he was visibly upset and she didn't think giving him a name was a really good idea, all things considered.

"Hey, I'm fine, okay? I don't think I should-"

"Well, I DO fuckin' think. I wanna know who."

While he didn't threaten her, she could tell he wasn't about to let it drop. He was so damned stubborn, especially when it came to things like this.

"I did a lot of it myself. Little things at first to test it. A needle. A lighter. A knife." The growl was back. "I went to Hank after that."

"Hank?" That surprised him. He knew Hank had a bit of a soft spot for her. He couldn't see Big Blue pointing a gun in her direction. Not at all. But he also knew the Rogue and when she had her mind set on something, there was little anyone could do to dissuade her. Hank had likely done it because the alternative, letting her experiment on herself, was much more dangerous.

His jaw clenched.

"He didn't like it any better than you did, but I had to know my limits and he knew I'd have tried to figure it out on my own."

"Hmph." Sometimes, he hated being right.

"It was very controlled. Lots of tests on smaller things before we even began to work our way up to the bigger stuff." Marie could see even a brief mention of the 'bigger stuff' left him twitchy. This conversation needed to move along. Now.

"Still hurts you, though."

It did and it touched her that he cared enough to be concerned.

"Hey, I'm tough."

"That's the damn truth." Inside and out.

"There are some perks, besides the obvious."

"Yeah?"

"Sure. I never cut myself shaving in the shower anymore." That earned her a small twitch of his lips. "It even works on mosquitoes."

"S'fuckin' handy." He chuffed softly. "I'm officially jealous now." He couldn't count the number of times he'd had to wait it out in some backwater shithole, being eaten alive while he watched a target or gathered intel or hid to avoid discovery.

"The only thing I haven't tried is adamantium."

"Thank Christ."

"To be honest, I'm not even sure that would work. I think maybe Hank's wrong there. It's weird, you know? It makes me feel weird. Untouchable for real now. Like I'm not even a person. It makes me feel like a thing."

"I can relate." It bothered him that she saw herself like that and Logan wanted to protest, but he understood all too well why she'd feel that way. "Do you think of me that way? As a thing?"

"No! Of course not! You're you. You're not your mutation."

"There's your answer then."

Funny how it was so clear in her mind when it came to him and so confusing when she thought about herself.

She ran a silky fingertip over his knuckles and he shuddered. "Will you let me try?"

"Not if you think you're gonna jab yourself in the chest again."

"Be serious."

Marie felt him squirm under her.

"I don't wanna hurt ya, kid." He was surprised to realize that was the truth. Even though he hadn't forgiven her, he'd come a long way since knocking on her door tonight. He couldn't imagine ever feeling safe with her again, but he didn't want to hurt her now, which was - ironically - exactly what she was asking of him. The idea itself made him apprehensive, but the Wolverine was definitely on board with that plan and it was Logan's awareness of that hot stick of animal interest that really unsettled him.

"I need to know," she said softly. "Please. I need this."

He finally nodded and his eyes gleamed golden. He wanted this, too. Wolverine wanted this. He was definitely on board with Marie wanting to be up close and personal with his claws. The man was swayed, but still uneasy.

"They cut through pretty much anythin'. Anythin'," he repeated quietly. "Maybe they won't work on ya, but humor me and just take it easy, okay, darlin'? They'll take your finger off before you know it." He saw her nod and tried not to think about all the times they'd drawn blood, piercing flesh and hacking off limbs like a hot knife through butter.

She was still sitting across his lap. He put his left hand on her stomach to steady her and keep her close. Extending his right hand away from her, he put the claws out slowly before cautiously bringing them within her reach, palm up.

Her hand rose off her lap and reached for him.

"Careful," he warned quietly.

Her touch was hesitant, slow and painfully intimate. The soft pad of her middle finger stroked his palm, a sensuous touch from the base of his index finger to the fleshy heel before it slid around to the back of his hand and trailed up toward his knuckles. He could feel a growl building. Nobody ever voluntarily touched the Wolverine. Not like _that_. For him, touch was always pain. This was new and frighteningly good; dopamine and endorphins, like bells ringing in blue midnight air. She slipped her fingers between the base of the blades, exploring the seam of metal and flesh.

Logan swallowed a low rumble of desire and felt himself begin to get hard. She was on his lap, still exploring his knuckles with her little fingers. God, she had to know what she was doing to him. And even if she didn't, she'd feel it any moment now. Those gentle, intimate touches were getting to him so damned good. A soft, deep groan of masculine pleasure rumbled out of him. There was no mistaking his arousal now, not in the sound he made nor in the hard ridge of flesh pressed against her. Marie turned her head to look in his face and watched his eyes dilate. Her fingers never stopped their languid exploration.

"That okay?" she whispered.

"Mmm... yeah." The sound crept over her skin like warm honey but his nod was curt. His skin was so sensitive there. It was almost too much.

Her touch skated onto the gleaming metal and he didn't even try to contain the low growling rumble as she stroked the thicker dull side of the blades where they emerged from his hands. He wasn't sure what was more startling, the tender care with which she touched the part of him that he struggled so hard to accept, or the fact that she was finally able to be open about giving him sexual pleasure. Her. Marie. Not Rogue. Not an act. It wasn't hidden behind the veil of fantasy or twisted with pain. It was real and good. His nostrils flared as he took in the warm, creamy scent of her desire.

Something was happening between them. Something more than the touch of her fingers upon him. It felt very much like jumping off a cliff. It was just as terrifying.

And just as euphoric.

"Thank you so much, sugar. I've wanted this for so long."

"How long?"

"Since Laughlin." He sucked in a breath. "I've always wanted to touch them. To stroke them. They're beautiful."

"No they ain't," but even he had to admit they felt pretty nice right now.

"Yes, they are. They are to me. I know they're dangerous. I know they're deadly... just like my skin—"

"S'beautiful," he murmured, still a little lost in the unique pleasure she was giving him.

"So are these. They've saved my life. They've saved your life. They're precious to me and so are you." Her touches had been concentrated near the base where flesh met metal. Now the strokes grew longer, exploring the length and breadth of the blades. That was getting to him. The Wolverine was all but purring out his pleasure to her. The idea of testing the sharp side of the blade with her skin had been set aside in favor of this languid foreplay.

Logan nearly jumped out of his skin when she bent forward and ran her tongue up the smooth edge of the blade. Her fingertips followed. The sensation was exquisite.

"Mmm..." Her sensual sound of want rolled through him, hot and strong.

A primal sound welled up, drawn up from the soles of his feet, rumbling his chest against her back. Her approval, her acceptance, made his blood run hot in a way no simple touch ever could.

Neither of them realized his other hand had slipped between her legs to cup her crotch possessively until he began moving his fingers in time with hers; long sweeping strokes and short, focused touches where it felt the best.

She was already soaked. He could feel her through the thin fabric and that affirmation, that knowledge that touching him could affect her so profoundly, sent the rising heat flaring wildly out of control. Where the man might have wavered, the Wolverine did not. Not with her touch on his claws and the lush scent of her wanting thick in his head, smelling of hunger and peat and home.

His fingers trailed up. A possessive caress to her belly before they nudged under the waistband of her pants. He didn't hesitate. His hand flashed down decisively. She was bare and slick against his palm in moments. The wet gusset was warm and slippery against the back of his hand and the soft rasp of hair under his fingertips was a delicious counterpoint to the glossy slide of smooth, pouty flesh.

He sucked in a sharp breath as hers came out in a low hum of pleasure. Her fingertips retreated to the relatively safety of his knuckles as she began to rock with and against his fingers. She couldn't think coherently with his hand working between her legs but she couldn't stop touching him altogether. She settled for stroking the sensitive skin around the base of his claws. His pupils were wide and black, a sliver of gold smoldering around the edge. The thick wrist trapped between her thighs felt so good. Intrusive and invasive in a wholly masculine way that made her want to lie down under him and spread her legs wide, her back arched in welcome.

The man would have told her that he'd always wanted to do this too, since Laughlin, just like her. The man would have whispered in her ear that he wanted to make her come - to feel her fall apart in his arms. Only the man wasn't presently in charge and that felt frighteningly good. There was an edge in the way he touched her, unapologetic and raw; a dominance in his bearing that she'd never felt from him before.

She'd seen a glimmer of it on that snowy road when he'd fought to keep Sabretooth from touching her. She'd seen it that night on the train when he'd stood up and put himself squarely between her and Magneto. She'd seen it again in the torch, wild and unfettered. Her cries of help had given way to primal screams that had been for _him_ , for the animal. Even then she'd called out to him, wanting him by her side, needing him.

He could hear that longing just as clearly now in her touch upon his knuckles and in the way her body wept for him. His long, thick fingers were drenched. He stretched the tight mouth of her opening with the rough pad of his thumb but didn't penetrate her. After everything that had passed between them, he wanted to give her pleasure but he still wanted her needy for what only he could give her. It wasn't his fingers he wanted to stretch her on.

She knew without a doubt who was touching her. She didn't call out his human name. She barely spoke at all, and when she did it was to beg him so sweetly, "Sugar, please... please!"

His answer came in grunts and growls. A long, slow lick to the side of her neck and a sharp nip of approval as she opened her shaking legs in wordless invitation and began to rock in his lap.

He teased her longer than he should have. Certainly longer than was kind. It was a tentative beginning, but he still hadn't forgiven her. There was still pain. He'd been out of balance with her for too long and he had his own power to reclaim. When her thighs began to tremble and the soft sounds in her throat had been reduced to needy, desperate whimpers he finally relented. A few firm, sure strokes centered right where she needed them sent her over with a gush of sweetness against his hand and a sharp cry that was incredibly satisfying on a number of levels.

She slumped against his chest, spent and shaking. He did not move his hand. The touch was tender and yet brutally possessive. They fell quiet. Recovering. Thinking. Processing. His eyes closed. He hadn't slept in more than two days. He was physically and emotionally exhausted, yet strangely wired. The touch of her fingertips on the base of his claws was electric, even now. He wanted to come. There was a dull buzzing under his skin that made his head pound and his body throb.

The next touch he felt was her fingertips brushing his buckle with the softest tug. His eyes opened, clear and warm.

"You know what you're askin'?"

"I do."

"If you put us on this road there's no goin' back."

"I know. I'm sure. Let me?"

* * *

Up next: **The Bite**. Love is pain. But sometimes it just hurts good.

So... will he? Won't he? ;)

And yep, I totally did end it there. Heh. ((ducks)) I had to or this would have been way too long - 7k! Up next is 3500+ words of something that really needed its own chapter. Any guesses?


	18. The Bite

Her expression was shy but the little flick of her tongue on her full bottom lip let him know exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it. The warm rush of desire against his palm told him she wasn't trying to make anything up to him or appease him in any way. It wasn't about that. She wanted him. Wanted her mouth on his flesh and his pleasure on her tongue.

He nodded and retracted the claws as she stood.

"No. Don't." She gracefully knelt in front of him and put a slim hand on each of his knees, slowly pushing his legs apart and moving to settle between his thighs as she caught his gaze. "Leave them out. I want to see them, to touch them while I'm loving you." His expression was unreadable. He was halfway gone just watching her simple movements as she prepared to pleasure him. Her soft words pushed him closer to the edge. It was like a dream. Even though he was watching it with his own eyes, he still couldn't quite believe it was really happening. "Please, sugar. They're beautiful to me."

Relenting, he put the claws out on his right hand, leaving the dominant left one free to touch her, to stroke her full lips and bury his fingers in her hair. The fingers on that hand still glistened slightly in the soft light. He brought them to his face, breathing them in and rubbing the lingering trace of her pleasure over his nose, mouth and chin with a low groan before sucking the taste of her from his fingers with undisguised relish. The uninhibited sensuality shocked her and she felt a blush rise. Her fingers fumbled on his belt.

He chuffed softly in amusement. The blush pleased him. "I guess fantasy ain't so far from reality after all, darlin'." She smiled, remembering her words to him the night they spun a story about their first time, about her fingers fumbling unfamiliarly with his buckle.

"I guess not."

He made no move to help her as she slowly worked the buckle free and opened his pants. He stood up for her thick and proud, moving slightly with each beat of his powerful heart. The tip was glossy and wet and the dark tangle of hair at his base was framed by the open denim of his jeans. There was something about that particular view that just really did it for her, especially from her current vantage point. She could smell him, warm and musky, and it was making her feel wild, like her blood was buzzing under skin. She liked it.

He was even thicker than she imagined he'd be and she realized it was because of the shift in perspective. His memories were her memories. She'd seen him touch himself in her head. His hands were much larger than hers. Marie drew that intimate knowledge close, wanting to crawl inside his head so she could give him the most pleasure possible.

"I wanted to put my mouth on you then, too," she pointed out with a wry smile, her hands making slow wandering trails up the insides of his thighs. She dragged her nails lightly down his quads, the shivery pressure blunted by the worn denim of his jeans, and then she slid her hands back up; a slow, sensuous stroke that coaxed another glistening drop from him.

"This is better." His voice hissed through his teeth at the first touch of her hand on his naked skin.

"Because I can touch you now?" Her words were light, not an accusation. Just curiosity. She stroked him slowly, lightly. He was so hard, so thick and impossibly male. He felt heavy in her hand, hot and solid. Her mouth watered.

"I never gave a shit about that. Still don't. S'better now because it's real and not a fantasy."

She moved closer and he could feel the moist heat of her breath teasing him where he throbbed and burned. "It's not pretty or sweet..." It was raw and wild and the antithesis of hearts and flowers.

"So what? If it's right for us, who gives a fuck? It don't mean it's without love."

Her eyes grew tender. She knew he hadn't forgiven her, but he was wide open now, letting her see as much of him as he could stand to give.

"Love is pain?" she asked softly.

"Sometimes." He shrugged and her eyes were drawn to the light glinting off his claws. "Sometimes it just hurts good." Brushing a thumb over her lips, he threaded his fingers into her hair and drew her down to his cock. He didn't want to talk anymore. Her mouth was too goddamn hot and he was obscenely hard. Christ, that mouth of hers had always tempted him.

"Mmm... You want somethin', sugar?"

He could feel her whisper as well as hear it. A feral growl rumbled in his chest in response. She wasn't sure which male she was pleasuring now. Maybe both of them together. The thought excited her.

He'd expected the wet, silky heat of her mouth and couldn't keep from purring out his pleasure to her when she nuzzled him with her cheek instead, trapping his erection between her soft skin and his taut belly. She pushed her face against him, breathing him in, rubbing his scent all over her. The animal approved but refused to be appeased by anything less than his most intimate scent on her breath.

Two nights ago a different woman had been in that exact same position, giving his body intimate attention. It was disconcerting because this time was so very different. Every part of him was engaged; his brain, his body, his heart. He shoved that thought away, wanting only Marie in his consciousness now. She was still rubbing against him, but now and again he could feel little wet flicks of her tongue. It wasn't a touch designed for his pleasure. It was for _her_. She was tasting him. Taking in his taste along with his scent, bringing them into her, making him a part of her.

Every time he sucked in a breath, it smelled of her. Every time his tongue flicked out to lick at the sweat on his upper lip, it caught little lingering traces of her taste. He pushed his thumb in her mouth, just to watch her suck it; to feel the warm swirl of her tongue and the deep, wet suction. His eyes rolled back in his head at the thought about that same sensation on a different, more sensitive appendage.

_Oh, Jesus... yes, more... Unnnngh..._

Her hands swept over him; trailing up his thighs, nudging under his shirt to skate over his belly and chest. She toyed with his nipple, the hair under his arm, the small of his back, the inside of his wrist. He felt wet, open-mouthed kisses now, first on his stomach and then lower, to the sensitive skin below his navel and then in his pubic hair before she slowly worked her way to his weeping tip.

"Look at me."

No 'darling'. No 'baby'. Just an order, rough and needy. He needed her. Her touch. Her mouth. Her submission. Her love and acceptance. Her lust. All of her. Everything. She was killing him.

He stroked himself roughly, inches from her mouth, and watched her eyes darken with pleasure. He needed more. Now. He gloried in her lusty growl as she dragged his hand away and caught his eye before slowly, finally, taking him between her full, red lips.

His body was on fire. She was right to make him wait, to draw out the moment they'd both been dreaming about for years, but he wanted to go at it hard now. Marie tugged his jeans down more to dig her fingers into the fleshy muscles of his ass while she sucked on the head, stimulating him strongly, bringing him deeper. Holding him closer and tighter as she suckled and swallowed around him.

She heard his breath catch and then change. It was deeper and sonorous now, punctuated by his crude, staccato grunts of undisguised pleasure. He slipped his hand into her hair and it came to rest on her slender nape. He allowed her to control the rhythm, but he couldn't resist making that connection with her. The rough touch articulated his need as clearly as if he'd spoken the words. More. Harder. Deeper.

She scraped him lightly with her teeth, aware of what the intense sensation that bordered on pain would do him. The raw, primal groan he made when she did it told her she was right. The rude sound affected her like a physical caress, making her shudder and sway. She did it again and then made her mouth soft and pliant, laving away the sting with sweet supplication as he began to take over the rhythm.

There was something primally satisfying about being on her knees in front of him. It felt good. Nothing had ever felt more right. She didn't even have the vocabulary to explain how right it felt. It was like coming home, like dying, like being reborn, like tasting the universe and being given a glimpse of the magic behind the moon and stars. Touching him was such a gift, and she received it humbly, with love.

He was grunting openly now, his hips rising in the chair, jerking and rocking in time to the sweet sucking pleasure of her mouth. She gave the sensitive slit a few firm flicks with her tongue and then focused her attention on his most sensitive spot, sucking at the little tuck of skin until his whole body shuddered.

The pressure built and rolled, growing heavier and harder to push back as she brought him closer to the edge. Where she'd been teasing before, she now heaped the pleasure upon him in great smothering waves. She filled his every sense. Her fingertips found the skin between his blades. She moaned around him. Her hair tickled his skin, silky and soft. Her nails dug into his ass. Her mouth loved him with a firm, strong suck and he was _there_.

A guttural sound was wrenched from his throat as his body lifted and surged; a wet pumping deep inside and fire licking up his spine as he writhed in agonized pleasure. His awareness narrowed to her sweet, soft mouth and the intense rhythmic spurts as his body pulsed into her throat. The world imploded in potent streams of liquid starlight.

She kept touching him afterwards, soft and slow over every bit of skin she could reach as he came back to himself. A part of his brain recognized it as real affection. Love so deep it shook him to his metal bones. Her mouth was soft on him. She cleaned him with little licks and light butterfly kisses, full of contented sighs and pleased hums of quiet joy.

"You taste so good, sugar." She kissed him again. "I don't want to stop..." She suckled his spent flesh gently, drawing out the last lingering drops of ejaculate and savoring the feel of his soft, squidgy flesh in her mouth. Vulnerable now, where he'd been imposing and fierce only moments before. She finally released him and gave him one last tender kiss.

Their eyes met and he smiled at her, catching her hand in his and pulling her close. She slid her arms around him and embraced him tightly. He heard her whisper, "Thank you," against his heart and was stunned by the sincerity in her words, as if he had just given her something beautiful instead of the other way around. Zipping up, he pulled her back up into his lap and wrapped his arms around her as his breathing evened out. He wanted her close and he wanted to sleep.

She drew back and caught his eyes. Her touch trailed down his bicep to his elbow and then along the inside of his forearm. Before he realized what she was doing, she curled her hand around the centermost blade and stroked downward with the same motion she'd used to pleasure him intimately just moments ago.

Her sharp cry startled them both. He instantly retracted his claws but it was much too late.

She jerked her injured hand away, instinctively curling it into a fist as she clutched it to her chest. Blood dripped from between her clenched fingers and she stared at it, transfixed; equal parts shocked and amazed.

"Christ! What the hell were you thinkin'? Lemme see it..." Still languid with pleasure, his body felt like it was responding too slowly. He took her hand in his.

"Ow! Ow. OW. OW!" For an invulnerable girl, she could be a bit of a weenie. The thought made her smile, even as her eyes stung with tears.

He peeled her fingers open and grimaced. Her palm was badly sliced. He could see tendons and ligaments in the ruined meat of her hand.

"Shit! Sorry. Gotcha real good, kid."

"Shh. That was my choice. It's not your fault. It's fine. I'll be fine." She focused inward and sifted for what she wanted. Before his eyes, her palm knitted itself back together. "Thanks for that," she said with a lopsided grin and a little blush. Using that piece of him inside her felt more intimate in some ways than what they'd just done together. "Yours is my favorite."

"Comes in handy. I'll give it that." Now that he was certain she was okay, he was distracted by her appearance. Her hair was a wild tangle from his fingers and her mouth was red and wet from pleasuring him, her full lips slightly swollen. A flush warmed her cheeks and she looked soft and happy.

"Not because of that. Because it's from you."

That made him feel good. He smiled at her. This time it touched his eyes. "I like that I can help when you're hurtin'. That you think of me then and that I can do somethin' good for ya. Thank Christ it's not some kinda lame-ass power like twinklin' in the sun or some shit."

She giggled, but she was aware they were skating along the edge of something more serious. "It's okay. You shine in a different way to me." Her words were soft, but he couldn't go there so soon. He could barely take in the idea that she saw him that way. He needed time to let that settle.

He nodded instead.

"You okay?"

"Good as new."

"No. I mean that I can hurtcha."

"Truth?"

"Yeah." He steeled himself.

"I'm glad."

"What?" She'd spent the last ten years running from him because he could hurt her. Now she wanted it? What the hell?

"I'm glad. I didn't think it would work and I'm so glad that it did. It makes me feel real, like a person not a thing. When I think about eternity..." she faltered and he squeezed her in sympathy. He understood exactly what she meant. "And I like that it puts us on even footing. It's like we're finally not out of step."

"Balance."

"Yeah. Does it bother you?"

"I— Hmph."

"Hey, however you feel about it is okay. Whatever it is."

"Truth?"

"Yeah."

"It ain't pretty."

"I don't care if it's pretty as long as it's real. I just really want to have that with you again."

He considered that and then finally nodded his assent.

"Yeah, I like it. It ain't right. I don't wanna hurtcha but somethin' in me needsta know that I can." Especially after she'd wounded him so grievously.

"Good. Something in me needs to know you can too."

He looked surprised, but didn't offer anything more about that.

"Was it weird seein' your blood after so long?"

"It surprised me a little, but weird? No. Not really." She smiled a very feminine smile. "Sugar, I see a little blood every month. That hasn't changed."

He chuffed softly as he realized what she meant. Logan shoved that thought away before he could go too far down that road, into places that simultaneously gave him a deep sense of pleasure while scaring the shit out of him.

She looked down at her hand and then up at him. Her eyes had changed. They were stormy and volatile now, like the ocean in winter. "I guess you did make me bleed the first time after all."

His blood was up just that fast. He took her hand in his and brought it to his face. He inhaled deeply, and something inside him eased at the dual scents of blood and sex. He could smell himself all over her and that pleased him, too. Catching her eye, he licked her palm with slow sensuous strokes of his strong tongue, sucking at the fleshy base of her thumb and nipping at her fingers with his strong, sharp teeth.

"Logan?"

"Grrr..."

He wasn't completely himself. Or perhaps he truly was for the first time. Not Logan. Not the Wolverine, but finally both parts of his nature existing side by side in relative peace.

"Sugar. Can — can I ask you for something?"

His eyes were a beautiful burnished gold, flecked with green.

"Sssstop?" He rumbled the word against her palm and she could see his shoulders slump a little at what he probably thought would be a rebuke.

"No. I wanna taste you too. Like that. Just — just a little. I wanted to do it when you cut your finger on my knife. I was just too scared to ask."

The sound in his throat grew deeper and lower, vibrating his chest against her as he put the claws out and in and then gave her his hand. A trace of red lingered between his knuckles and he growled out his pleasure as she tasted him too. His semen. His sweat. His blood. She had all of him inside her now.

Logan lowered his head and licked her full bottom lip. It was not a kiss. It was something different. Something more. Something wilder. For all the pain between them, it was fitting that their first real taste of intimacy was flavored with that coppery tang. It was gentle and tender. He could taste his pleasure on her lips, underscored by the slight metallic bite of his blood. A familiar wildness surged through him. Before he could stop himself, he bit her neck hard with his sharp, white teeth. It was everything he felt; everything that he wanted to say but couldn't.

The Wolverine had given his wounded heart a voice.

Marie cried out sharply at the rough bite but he soothed away the sting with his tongue and soft kisses. It would have bled if she hadn't been invulnerable. She would feel it for days and the thought made her smile. Logan knew it had hurt, but he refused to apologize for something that felt so right. It wasn't the pain he was after. It was something more. He buried his face in her throat and closed his eyes, his big body heavy and slow.

"I needta sleep, kid. S'been a few days."

He could feel her apprehension. She wanted him to stay but was afraid to ask. She should know better. She shouldn't be afraid of his rejection now, not with his brand still stinging on her neck. It might be invisible, but they both knew it was there. She should know what it meant. He thumbed the spot purposefully and met her eyes, waiting.

Understanding flared, a beautiful light warming her sea-green eyes. He allowed her to tug him to his feet and lead him to the bed. She undressed him like a friend not a lover, with affection rather than prurience, divesting him of his shirts, boots, and socks. He hadn't rebuckled his belt from before and she stripped it easily from his pants. He caught her small hands and pulled them away from the button on his jeans.

"No. Leave 'em on," he grunted softly. "Leave your clothes on, too. Just lie down with me, darlin'. I won't be able to stop in the mornin' if we're both naked. There's too much of our pain in these walls. I don't wanna have you like that here."

The idea of making love to him here didn't bother her at all, but Logan was not a man much given to sentimentality and Marie understood it was important to him. He was trusting her with one of his soft places and she wasn't about to hurt him again. They had time. An eternity of it if he wanted. She could scarcely believe he'd given her this much. It wasn't all of it. Marie could still feel him holding large pieces of himself apart and she was aware he probably always would, but it was more than she ever thought she'd have. It definitely wasn't happily ever after. It was simply hope.

They had hope for the first time since the lily pond.

She turned out the light and climbed into bed. He immediately pulled her close and kissed her neck lightly before tucking her head under his chin. He sighed with contentment as her leg slid over his thigh and her arm draped across his chest. Her hand slid down to cup the soft bulge under his zipper. The touch was possessive rather than sexual. Comforting. Safe. He liked it and so did she.

"Logan?"

"Hmm?"

"I think maybe you were wrong before. About the road, I mean."

"I can't go back, kid. Not now," he said tiredly. "And neither can you."

"I don't mean that. I don't want us to go back. I mean I don't think this road is new. That's why nothing's ever been easy for us. We've always been on it. It's just now we're finally walking it together."

"Mmph." He didn't say anything but he pulled her closer.

They fell silent. A few minutes later, just as he was on the verge of sleep, she nuzzled him softly with her cheek.

"Sugar?"

"Mmmm...?"

"What happens in the morning?"

He sighed. He'd forgotten how she always liked to have things settled before she slept. "I gotta truck outside. There's a lotta roads we ain't been down before out there. You wanna? With me?"

He felt her smile against his chest.

"I wanna."

He smiled too. Maybe she was right. It did feel better going to sleep knowing there was something good on the horizon.

* * *

Up next: **The Test**. "All of you...and all of me. When you're ready, that's what I want."


	19. The Test

Logan woke alone. He could smell coffee and the sweet spice of a warm, satisfied woman, softened with sleep. Her scent was all over the sheets and all over him and he liked it. A low rumble of contentment was out before he could stop himself. The scent was stronger on his fingers and the idea that he'd been touching her intimately while they slept brought a small smile to his lips. He was not one to waste an opportunity.

Marie was across the room, sitting in the corner of the small loveseat with her feet tucked up under her, a cup of coffee in her hand. Her eyes were on him, warm and soft. The distance between them was physically painful. She ached to touch him.

He was a little surprised she wasn't still in bed. She'd slept wrapped around him all night, her face pressed against him and her body touching as much of his skin as possible from head to toe. He would have thought that having her plastered to him so closely would have made for an uncomfortable night, but he felt better rested than he had in years. No old ghosts had disturbed his dreams. He hadn't slept next to a woman since his wife died. It filled a place in him he hadn't even realized was empty.

Marie burned for him, but he'd been emphatic last night that he didn't want to make love to her here. Leaving the warmth of his bed and the pleasure of his arms this morning had been hard. She'd woken to him spooned behind her, semi-erect, his breathing warm and steady on the back of her neck and his hand in her pants, cupping her crotch possessively while he slept.

Waking up to that closeness was a beautiful torture. It felt so good, like the beginning of so many of her secret fantasies. It wasn't just his touch on her skin. It was intimacy with this man that she'd craved. Now she had it. And it was overwhelming. Like freefall. She didn't trust herself not to give in to the desire tickling under her skin.

Part of her wondered if it wasn't some kind of test, a way to see if he could really trust her again. She didn't want to give him another reason to doubt her so she'd slipped away, but not before taking several long minutes to revel in the rightness of it; his slow, even breaths stirring her hair, his wrist between her legs, the proprietary touch of his thick fingers. She hoped there would be many more mornings together in different rooms; places where he hadn't put limitations on what their bodies and hearts might find together in a warm, soft bed.

"Mornin', kid."

"Morning, sugar."

Logan stretched, rolling his neck and waiting for the familiar pop before he lowered his arms and scratched at an errant tickle of chest hair. He dropped his hand to adjust himself absently. The pressure was slightly uncomfortable; the fullness of a morning blood rush, nature's call and a strong desire to push that heaviness into Marie's small, inviting body. It was almost enough to make him rethink not wanting to claim her here, but then he thought about the scar on her arm and the pain and rage that they had bled here and his resolve hardened. They deserved something better. They deserved the road and a fresh start.

They deserved hope.

 

**~ooOoo~**

The road rolled under them, black and quiet. The heater ticked along, balancing the chill from his half open window. A white paper cup of steaming pumpkin latte was in her hand. A cigar was in his. Her smile hadn't quit all day. The quiet contentment bleeding from her had brought a wry grin or two to even his stoic face.

It hadn't been an easy day, but he'd enjoyed the hell out of it. It would have been easier if they'd had sex. They were both on edge and it was going to take much more than a good night's sleep to recover their old camaraderie. They needed time. And touch. They needed hours of deep conversation. They needed to open up. To be vulnerable. To learn how to be good to each other again. To heal. Things were better, but still tentative. Each interaction was charged, without any of the softer notes of sexual satiation. That thick tension lay between them, a lake of gasoline just waiting for a spark. It flared quickly and often.

It didn't take much. It had started even before they'd gotten on the road. The feel of his body curled around hers in sleep this morning. The weight of her eyes on him as he'd emerged from the bathroom, skin damp from a shower and his jeans slung low on his lean hips. His big body was languid and loose with the orgasm he'd given himself under the hot spray after he realized that even answering nature's call wasn't going to assuage the steely stand of flesh. Jesus. Even his cock was stubborn when it came to her.

He'd enjoyed the aftermath of her shower just as much, watching from the vantage point of the bed while she'd rummaged, dripping, through her pack. Her body was wrapped in a fluffy white hotel towel that was damned indecent. He approved. She gathered her clothes to head back into the bathroom and his teeth flashed with something too predatory to be called a smile.

"No. Here."

"Here?"

"I wanna watch." He wasn't censoring anything now.

_Oh, God._

Heat rolled through her.

It had been hard enough to manage the morning's intimacies. Hearing him sigh with pleasure as he urinated. Catching his soft groan of completion over the sound of the shower. Seeing the damp, crazy spikes of his hair rumpled from a rough toweling. Watching him shave with smooth, precise strokes even though he grumbled about her dull razor. She really liked seeing that. He'd used her toothbrush after. She'd liked the intimacy of that, too.

There were other things, too. Lingering glances and little touches. They seemed to draw each other in like magnets. Bumping into each other as they rounded up the empty take-out cartons and the bottles from last night. He'd kissed her neck, right on the bite he'd given her last night.

And then there was the way her face heated as he sat down in _that_ chair to pull on his boots and socks. She could still feel the soft carpet under her knees and the smooth heft of him on her tongue. Her eyes told him all she needed was the slightest invitation and she'd gladly join him there again.

And now he wanted to _watch_ her dress?

"Is that a good idea?"

"Gimme a little credit, huh?" Logan chuffed softly. "I ain't seventeen."

Marie shuddered. "Hmm..."

"What?"

"Just imagining you at seventeen." She'd never really thought about him as anything other than the Logan she'd always known. He was so timeless it was hard to imagine him any other way. But now that the thought had occurred to her, she couldn't seem to stop herself. Her smile deepened, and so did her accent. "All those ragin' hormones, all that wildness before ya'd learned any sort of control...I bet you were a force of nature, sugar."

"Still am," he said smugly. "But now I got enough miles to be what you need, baby."

"You sure do. And I love every one of them." She kept her voice light, playful. Neither of them were up for any more heavy conversations for a while. "I wonder if I have what you need?"

She did. In every way he could possibly imagine and probably some he wasn't even aware of, but he appreciated the easy tone in her voice and the invitation to play instead of spilling his guts.

"I dunno. Why dontcha drop the towel and we'll see?"

Her face changed. "Is this a test?"

He frowned. "Is that why I didn't wake up with you nexta me this mornin'?"

"Yeah."

He sat up on one elbow from his position on the bed. "That the kinda man you think I am now? One who'd try to trip you up like that right outta the gate?" He was serious. Not a trace of the playful man he'd let her see a minute ago.

"No. But you trusted me with one of your soft places. I didn't think I'd get that again. That's a huge deal for me and I don't wanna mess it up."

"Mmph." He eased back at her soft admission, appeased for the moment. "I was just teasin' ya, kid. Well, that and I wanna see your naked parts." His eyes glittered with something more adult than simple mischief. He hadn't changed his mind about the sex, but he wasn't above a little preview of coming attractions.

"Any ones in particular, cowboy?"

"Any of the pink ones'll do." It was graphic without being explicit.

"Logan!" She could feel a blush rise and he chuckled.

"Lucky me. Now they're all pink."

Once she would have been scandalized, too shy to be what he needed. Today she dropped the towel and held his eyes while she got dressed, slowly pulling on a tiny thong. She took her sweet time, giving him a nice little show. He could see the shadow of her dark hair under the lace and growled out his approval. She was flushing now, but her scent said it wasn't with embarrassment anymore.

"I really liked last night."

"Me, too."

"I liked sleeping with you too. That felt so good. Right."

He nodded. "Yeah. Peaceful... but - not."

She understood exactly what he meant. There was too much sexual tension between them for it to be like that right now.

"I liked this morning, too. Waking up with you. I want more mornings like that." Her voice was soft and serious now. "I didn't want to get up, to leave you. But I didn't think I could stay and-" more color bloomed in her cheeks and she looked away.

"And?" He wanted to hear her say it.

"And keep my hands and mouth to myself," she finished quietly. That time she didn't look away.

The searing look he gave her could have blistered glass. Marie could feel it over her whole body, just as he'd intended.

She shimmied into her jeans, pulling on her socks and boots before she finally reached for her bra. The soft pink upthrust of her breast made his mouth water but he kept finding his eyes drawn back to her striking tattoo.

He was beside her in moments. "Leave this off." His fingers peeled her bra down her arms but it was the tattoo he brushed lightly with his thumb. She traveled light and had precious few clothes. She'd miss it if he shredded it later. "I wanna be able to touch you today. See your nipples get hard under your clothes." He moved closer. A wave of heat passed through her so sharply she actually shuddered. "And I can't promise how much restraint I'll have tonight."

"None, I hope."

Her soft reply rocked him back.

"None?"

That was a terrifyingly seductive thought. He'd never completely let himself go with a woman, never in all the years he could remember. His hands found her hips and pulled her close, her bare breasts pressed to his chest. There was something vulnerable about being half naked while he was clothed. She liked it. His hands found hers, his palm warm against her skin where he interlaced their fingers.

"All of you...and all of me. When you're ready, that's what I want, Logan."

"Grrr..." A low growl rumbled deep in his chest. He touched his forehead to hers.

"Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, kid. It is. Scares the shit outta me, but yeah."

She searched his eyes before putting one small hand on either side of his heavy jaw. "I've never been afraid of him. I want him and I want you. I want to feel you out of control. I want every bit of everything you've ever held back. I want it all. The only thing I've ever been afraid of is how I feel about you, how deep those feelings go. I'm not afraid now. Nothing hurts more than a life without you in it."

It was her utter peace, her calm measured words that was his undoing. "Do you have any idea what you're askin'?"

"No." That wasn't the answer he expected. "Nobody's ever wanted me that way and I've never wanted anyone that way except for you."

"I've never had that with anyone either."

"Never?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"You are?"

"Everyone should have that kind of love at least once."

Logan shook his head, huffing softly. "You are my once, kid."

* * *

Up next: **The Drive**. An open road is before them. Any possibility is within their grasp. Where do they go from here?

(Any guesses?)


	20. The Drive

Marie was still feeling the warmth of Logan's heartfelt words when they found themselves sitting in a cold truck, grinning like idiots. An open road lay before them. Any possibility was within their grasp.

Logan started the truck and looked over at her. "So, where to?"

Her eyes touched the beautiful landscape. The day was clear and sunny. The snow sparkled and everything felt new and fresh.

"Are you asking for a specific destination or a general direction?"

"Either. Or we can just drive and take it as it comes."

She turned that over for a few minutes.

"West."

His brow arched slightly. "What's out west?"

"Besides adventure?" He nodded, wondering at the little shimmy and the thick Mississippi lilt that accompanied 'adventure'. "The Canadian Rockies." She paused.

His turn.

"Laughlin City." The slightest hint of amusement touched his eyes.

"The AlCan."

"Alkali Lake."

"Anchorage."

"The Pacific."

"Japan." Her voice was soft.

He shook his head. "Someday."

"The cabin."

He almost didn't hear her, and that was saying something.

"Missed the window this season," he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "It's pretty far north. Alpine. The pass closed a few weeks back. It's possible to walk it in," he made a face. His body was about at the limit of what a snowshoe could handle, weight wise, even without a full pack. It was possible, but not pleasant. And he wouldn't dare defile that pristine place with a snowmobile. "But even between us, we couldn't carry a winter's worth of provisions."

"Maybe the average bear couldn't."

He smiled a little at her teasing. "It's a nice idea though." It meant a lot to him that she'd even put it out there. It was another shard pulled from an old wound. "I'd like that," he offered quietly. "Not a fantasy, but real time, there with you."

"Mmm..."

"Y'like that?"

"I do."

"Good."

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Even fully loaded with supplies, I wouldn't break a sweat flying this truck up the side of a mountain." She flushed under his intense gaze. Her new gifts still made her uncomfortable and embarrassed, but she was proud of what she was now. She didn't run from herself anymore. "Unless I swallow a bug. Then all bets are off."

He chuckled softly at her self-deprecating humor. "You can really do that?"

"Walk in the park." He drew her closer, tucking her into his side. "I just wanted you to know that the cabin could be on the table if you wanted, regardless of Mother Nature's timetable. That's all. There are no passes closed to you anymore."

There was a quiet truth in her words he felt down to his bones. He understood she wasn't only speaking literally. His hand found hers and didn't let go. He had the feeling that the cabin might not be their destination, but if they were lucky, it might be where they eventually wound up.

"Let's just go west and see what happens."

When he looked over, her other hand was at her neck and he wondered if she was aware she was touching the bite he'd made last night. Her skin was smooth and unmarked, but he knew she'd still be able to feel it today.

"Sounds good, sugar."

She blushed and dropped her hand when she saw him looking.

He just nodded and put the truck in drive.

**~ooOoo~**

They opted for breakfast on the road; hot black coffee and sausage biscuits with bacon and cheese, wrapped in white paper spotted with grease. It was as if once they'd found themselves on the road together, they didn't want to stop and risk derailing the train. They both knew they'd need to stop eventually, but for now it just felt good to drive. To move. To pass through life together.

By the early afternoon, they were ready to stretch their legs. They ate lunch at a little hole-in-the-wall place in a town that was too small to even appear on the map. The sleepy little diner was in the center of the old town square, now surrounded by dusty antique shops, fussy touristy places full of knick-knacks and doilies, and an aromatic formaggio that Logan could smell even before they'd gotten out of the truck.

He liked how it felt. Marie at his side. His hand at the small of her back. Her eyes on him, warm and bright. She smelled so good.

The diner was dated and nearly empty, but the food was amazing. A chatty patron kept the sole waitress busy at the bar and that suited them just fine. They had a quiet conversation over crusty roast beef au jus sandwiches, with dill pickle spears and salt and vinegar chips on the side. The simple, hearty food was surprisingly delicious. Molson for him. Shiner for her.

They talked mostly about what they'd each been doing the last year or two, work and missions and side projects they'd both picked up. Instead of sitting across from her, he sat beside her in the booth and didn't take his hand from her thigh except to pull a few bills from his wallet at the end of the meal. He tossed the money down and put his hand back on her leg.

"I was thinkin' we might drive another two or three hours and kick off a little early tonight."

"I could drive if you're tired."

His eyes darkened. "I ain't tired."

Her eyes widened. "Oh." She couldn't stop the wet rush that accompanied her understanding of his plans for the evening.

"Heh." His nose turned her way and his eyes got even darker. "I'll take that as a yes, darlin'."

She could feel the heat in her cheeks, but it was a good warmth. It made her feel settled in one way but jumpy and excited in another. He kissed her fingertips. She kissed his back. He tasted like Logan. And pickles. She laughed into his palm and he lifted his head, golden eyes now appraising her intently.

Her lips found his ear. "I want you inside me. All of you." Honest words, without any embellishment. She said them plainly, with heat and fire in her eyes. His hand tightened on her thigh.

"Jesus," he muttered, suddenly feeling a hot prickle race under his skin. "Let's go."

They stopped at the restroom at the end of a skinny, poorly lit hall on their way out to the truck. The diner was small. There was only one tiny bathroom with a door that stuck; a 'one-holer' as her mama used to say.

Logan pulled her inside with a playfully dirty leer that was beginning to grow on her. It wasn't prurience so much as it was things were too new. He wanted her under his watchful eye. He didn't think she'd bolt now, but it wasn't completely outside the realm of possibility. Certainly enough that the idea of leaving her waiting alone outside the door made him uneasy.

He locked the door behind them, pressed her up against it and kissed her neck. Hard. Right there on the spot he'd bitten last night. And then he pulled away, chuckling.

"What?"

"Any more of that and it'll defeat the purpose of comin' in here to begin with." The three beers he'd with lunch were making themselves known.

She giggled. It was a very Marie sound, but the way she watched his hands on his fly was all Rogue.

It was a lot of intimacy all at once, but it felt right and the Wolverine wasn't shy. His teeth flashed. "You gonna come hold it or just look?"

She blinked at him and then smiled impishly as she stepped up behind him, a glint in her eye and her slim fingers sure on his lean hips. "You should know better than to dare the Rogue, sugar." But then, maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. Maybe he'd gotten just what he'd wanted. His hands guided hers.

"And you should know better than to sass the Wolverine, little girl."

Their hands, together on him. She waited, a little shiver running through her at his words. Nothing happened.

"Stage fright?" she teased.

That time he did chuckle. "Nah. Just enjoyin' your hands on me a little first."

"Oh!" Her squeak of playful outrage amused him. He let fly.

"Hey! A little precision here, huh?"

Marie snickered. It was harder than it looked. And aiming wasn't so easy either. She rolled her eyes at him as he zipped up and moved over to the sink to wash his hands. Marie danced from foot to foot.

"Hurry up. Now I have to go."

He looked over, one brow halfway up his forehead. "I ain't stoppin' ya."

"I can't pee with you watching!" The Rogue was gone and Marie was back. That was kind of fun. He never quite knew what to expect. It amused him. For years she'd practically lived in merc camps. There was no privacy there. Everyone lived in each other's pockets. She'd likely squatted in the dirt in front of someone countless times over the years. But this — this was different. She loved him. She wanted him. And that made all the difference in the world. That she would be shy now touched him in a deeply private way.

He leaned back against the door, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her. "Darlin', in a few hours we're gonna be holed up for the night and it's gonna be a helluva lot more intimate than this."

"Oh, God..."

His arm shot out, wrapping around her slender waist as he hauled her to him and put his mouth to her ear. "I'm gonna lick you and taste you and rub myself all over you. Gonna follow my nose, push it in all the places thick with your woman-scent. Gonna make you come on my fingers and mouth until you're shakin'. And then when you're beggin' for it, when you've lost every last bit of yourself, I'm gonna shove in so deep you'll never get me out again."

She gasped and the world seemed to go all fuzzy around the edges. She had some experience with sex, but very little with actual desire and next to none with real intimacy. Certainly nothing that approached this bonfire of unrestrained lust.

"You want it all? You got it, baby." His voice was so soft, but his eyes — his eyes were anything but gentle. "So you go right ahead and be shy now if you wanna..." He turned her loose with a playful little shove. "But don't think for a fuckin' second that I'll ever settle for anythin' less than all of you, kid."

She sat.

His eyes gleamed, amber and wild.

He pinned her against the door when she was finished, her hands still wet and dripping from the sink. He shoved her shirt up with a growl. There were no preliminaries, no gentle tentative kisses. He covered one breast with his hand, pinching her nipple sharply while he covered the other with his mouth and sucked hard. Everything jumped into focus. The scrape of her boot heel on the dirty tile floor. The little fingers twined in his hair. The whimper in her throat and the growl of triumph in his. He bit her breast sharply and she jerked against the door, his mouth a wide, predatory smile as he straightened and tugged her shirt back down.

She looked dazed and she smelled fucking delicious. His mouth watered and he flicked the sides of her jacket open to admire his handiwork. Her nipples were clearly visible under the thin, clingy fabric and he grunted in appreciation at the fine sight, pleased with himself, her responsiveness, and the world in general.

"You bit me!"

He shrugged. "You liked it."

"So did you."

"Fuck, yeah."

"What if I bit you?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"On if it's sparrin' or if it's foreplay."

"Both," she said defiantly.

"Then we're gonna need a bigger room."

"You'd do that? Spar with me for real?"

"Naked sparrin', yeah." His teeth flashed again. "To the victor goes the spoils, huh?"

"I swear if you say 'no-holes-barred', you'll be sorry."

He chuckled. "Hey, that came outta your mouth, not mine."

She rolled her eyes but then grew more serious. "I'd like that, sparring with you for real. I like knowing where the boundaries are."

"So you know where the hard edges are?"

Marie shook her head.

"No. So I know how much room I have to play."

He shuddered. Now his nipples were hard too. "C'mon, baby. Let's get in the wind."

* * *

Next up: **The Theory**. Did he really need an answer? He seemed to be waiting for one. Maybe he did need the words. Or maybe he knew she needed to say them...


	21. The Theory

Following lunch, Marie was quiet for the better part of an hour. He enjoyed a post meal cigar and she enjoyed a pumpkin latte, the miles disappearing under the truck and an old Johnny Cash CD on repeat.

"Penny for 'em," he finally offered. He'd been watching the wheels turning in her head since they left the diner.

"A penny? These are top shelf thoughts, mister."

Sitting forward, he dug his wallet from his pants and tossed it to her with a grunt, a hint of amusement pulling at his lip. "That cover it?"

"You bet." She put his thick wallet between her hands and tucked her fingers between her knees before looking back out the window.

"What's on your mind, kid?"

"I have a theory. About us, I mean. I was just thinking on it a little, seeing how today's events fit in."

He wasn't surprised she'd been thinking about them. He had been too. "Let's hear it."

"It's a little out there, a little interactive so bear with me, huh?"

"Sure." Now he was really curious.

"Logan, what happens in nature when something tries to chase a predator who's not interested?"

"Depends. If it's a cub, it generally gets ignored or swatted if it's bein' too annoyin'. If it ain't a cub, it usually gets ignored or killed."

"And if it runs?"

"Then it gets chased."

"What happens then?"

"If it's food, it gets caught, played with sometimes - and then eaten. If it ain't food, then it usually gets played with some and then mounted."

"Really?"

"Sure. That's animal nature, baby. Life's too hard to expend precious energy on something you can't eat or fuck. In general, they sleep when they're tired. Play when they're full. Rut when they wanna. Hunt when they hafta. Make babies in the winter. Raise 'em in the spring when everythin' is green again."

Her eyes were far away. "That sounds pretty nice."

He shrugged. "Nothin' wrong with a simple life. S'better'n mosta the lives I've had."

His hand found her thigh again.

She was quiet for long minutes. "I chased you once, when I was a cub."

It was as if someone had suddenly blown the sand from the cracks and what she'd been trying to say was instantly clear to him.

"And I ignored ya."

"And then swatted me down."

He winced. "Yeah."

"But then I grew up."

"We both did."

"And I ran. I've been running ever since."

"I know. I've been chasin' ya for years now."

Her beautiful face was in profile. She turned to look at him, her eyes clear and bright.

"And then I finally stopped running and waited."

"For me." He could hear how fast her heart was beating. She smelled so good. "You waited for me."

She nodded. "Yeah." Her voice was quiet.

"And then I caught ya." She nodded again. "You know I almost killed ya, darlin'." He'd been right on the edge. He wasn't too far from that place even now.

"I know."

"I was so angry."

"You were hurt."

That stabbed deeply and he didn't like feeling vulnerable, even now. "We both bled," he offered, thinking of the scar on her arm.

"And now?"

"Now?" She saw his teeth flash. "Now we're playin', baby."

"And later?"

Hooded hazel eyes with an amber flash turned, catching her gaze. "I think I was pretty damn clear about what's gonna happen later."

"Maybe just the 'little death', then...?" There was a playful light in her eyes.

"Ain't gonna be no little about it."

_God._ Her whole body shuddered.

They both fell quiet. It was Marie who broke the silence later as the shadows started to grow longer.

"You know, building the Rogue. I did that for me. But you know what?"

"What?"

"She was what I needed—for me. But she's also what he needed."

"He?"

"Wolverine."

"Hmph." His fingers tightened on the wheel.

"He was never comfortable with Marie. Never. He would have touched her but he'd have hated himself the whole time and eventually that would have poisoned him as surely as my skin."

"Don't talk about your skin that way."

They both were aware he hadn't contradicted her about the rest of what she'd said.

"It's okay now. It really is. Carol changed everything. I can be what I need now, and what you need... and what he needs. And that's something different than growing up, Logan."

"I get it, kid." She was a predator in her own right now, strong and beautiful and deadly, with tender spots underneath. Spots that still wanted to cradle his soft places even after everything they'd done to each other.

"Do you?" She wasn't sure he did. Not really.

"Balance. We have balance now."

They did.

And it was glorious.

**~ooOoo~**

"Kid?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Sure. It's all an open book. Anything you need, sugar."

Marie could see he was uncomfortable and she wondered what he wanted to ask about. She knew that rushing him was the fastest way to get him to clam up again, so she waited for him to get his thoughts in order.

"That stuff in your head you got from me. What's that like?"

She smiled. "Those are the best parts of me. Bright and good. That's how they feel."

"Mmph." He sighed. "That's real nice, real good to hear... I'm glad they're not hurtin' ya, but it's not what I mean."

Her head cocked as she looked at him. "Oh?"

"I mean-" His jaw tightened. He wasn't really a talker and things like this had always been hard for him.

"You mean the content more than how I feel about it?"

"Yeah."

"That part of you I keep with me... it's a lot. More than anyone else. Probably because I took so much from you the first two times and probably because you just had more to give. Your well is deeper." He chuckled but it wasn't a happy sound. "I get memories, mostly. If they're intense, I get how you feel and what you think about them in addition to the memory itself, if that makes sense."

He winced. "Sorry."

"I'm not."

"No?"

"I like it, though I think in some ways it made things harder for us in the beginning. Made me feel like I knew you better than I really did."

"Nah. That ain't right. You always saw deep into me. Right from the beginnin'. Even before I ever touched ya."

Her smile was back. "Yeah, I kinda did a little." He gave her a pointed look. "Or, you know, a lot."

"Made me as uncomfortable as hell, still does sometimes, but I like that you look at me and see more than what everyone else sees."

"You've always been beautiful to me, sugar. Even when I could have cheerfully strangled you."

"Heh."

"I wonder though—" She stopped short and smiled at him instead. Maybe she should just stop while she was ahead. "You know what? Nevermind."

"No. I wanna know. You get questions, too." He couldn't say he was an open book because that wasn't true. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But he could give a little.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I like that." She shrugged a bit when he nodded. "It's not really a question for you so much as it is just a sort of internal wondering on my part. I have so many memories from you. Places you've been. Things you've seen. Sometimes..."

"Keep goin'." It was hard, but he wanted to know where she was headed with this.

"Sometimes I wonder... well, I mean- I know you say you don't remember much before about thirty years ago. I do though. I have some things before that and I was just kind of wondering if maybe the things I got from you somehow bypassed whatever it is that keeps you from reaching them?"

That wasn't what he was expecting at all. He'd never considered the idea that she might have pulled memories that he didn't have access to.

"I dunno. I never thought of it like they were still in my head. I just thought they were gone. Taken or destroyed. Not like they were there but I just couldn't get to them." But it made sense, though. He had nightmares and dreams of other lives he'd lived. Experiments. Wars. Women. Glimmers and slivers rather than a complete picture. Those had to be coming from somewhere, but to be honest, he wasn't focused on trying to find what he'd lost anymore. How like life to hand him answers from the one place he'd never thought to look, long after those things had ceased driving him.

"Hmm..."

"C'mon."

"Anything from Vietnam?" Bone claws and firing squads and a brother-in-arms lost to the madness inside him.

"Nope." He looked over at her. "You guessin' I served or you have memories of that?"

"Memories." Her voice was soft. "They're not all bad, okay?"

"Hmph."

"More?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember Nagasaki?"

He nodded. "Yeah." Too much. That would probably be fresher for her because of the touch in the motel room. His memories of that place had been stirred by the time he'd spent there with Mariko.

"What about D-Day? Omaha beach?" She had a very clear memory of him with a cigar in his mouth and a rifle in hand, rushing the beach under heavy German machine gun fire.

He shook his head.

"What about the trenches at Marne? WWI?" Barbed wire and biplanes, mud and blood and the stench of mustard gas and bloated bodies.

He shook his head again.

"Gettysburg? Vicksburg? Bull Run?" Bayonets and cannon balls and a tattered Confederate flag lying in the bloody grass. He wore his hair longer then and his mutton chops were fuller. She liked it.

He looked at her sharply. "What?"

"Sugar, I'm from Mississippi. I know my Civil War history. Your coat was blue, Yankee." She'd lost family at Vicksburg. It was long before her time, but nobody ever forgot their fallen kin. It was a point of southern pride, even now. Sometimes she thought they might be proud of how she turned out. Sometimes she wondered if they'd have strung her up too. She was the new unpopular minority now.

"Yankee? I'm Canadian."

She laughed.

"And I'm a girl with a thing for old soldiers. Especially the Canadian ones." She'd always had a soft spot for those who had served. Even as a child she'd liked sitting and listening to their old stories.

"Thank Christ." He sighed and the flicker of humor left his eyes. "You got any that aren't so goddamn bloody?" It was disconcerting enough she could remember things he couldn't, but even more than that, he hated the idea of her seeing him rain death down on everything in his path. He knew what he was like. Even if he couldn't remember those fights, he remembered enough of them in the years since then.

"Sure. You remember the twins in Vegas, right? Circa 1970? White gogo boots and gold lame hot pants?"

"Oh yeah." His lips twitched. "Blondes, right?"

"Not real blondes." Her eyes danced as she teased him.

"Heh. It ain't right you remember more about that than I do." Not right and a little embarrassing, but he needed to focus on the lighter side of this because if he thought too hard about it, he was going to come off the rails.

"It's not all like that. There are good things too. You looking up at the northern lights. You sleeping up at the cabin, enjoying the stars and the wide open space. You riding an Indian, right off the line. You hunting in the crisp autumn air. Nice things. Good things."

"How far back do they go?" His voice was tight but he had to know. "What's the first one?"

"Sugar, I—"

"Tell me, kid."

"You running in the trees."

"Like an animal?"

"No. Like a kid. Eight or nine maybe? Running from something bad." Running the night he manifested. Some revelations could wait. They had time.

"Jesus." He'd reached his limit. "No more. Not now."

"Sure." She kept her voice light.

It might be years before he was ready to really talk about that. "All this time. You never said."

"Hey, they're not my stories to tell. And it's not like I have everything, you know? I don't get like a complete chronological brain download or anything. I just get bits and pieces. Like broken glass. Most of them are out of context and don't make much sense. It's hard to find one with something that can even identify a time or place."

"Whaddya mean?"

"Like I have a very vivid memory of you sitting at a wooden table eating a bowl of oatmeal with blackberries in it. I have no idea _where_ that place is or _when_ it is, but I can tell you that you put an extra spoonful of brown sugar because the berries were too tart."

" _When_ it is?"

"Hey, it could be ten years ago or a hundred, you know? There's nothing there to identify a place in time."

"Still-"

"I wasn't trying to hide anything, Logan. I have a lot up there that's not you, too. Erik remembers some of those wars too, you know?" She was a little defensive now. Maybe it would have been better if she hadn't opened this can of worms.

"I know. I'm just surprised. I stopped givin' a shit about findin' those answers a long damn time ago."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"When a little girl sassed her way into my truck. After that, what I'd found slowly became more important than what'd I'd lost. It didn't change overnight, but that's where it started."

"Takes a while for an old dog to learn new tricks, huh?"

He flashed his teeth at her. "Woof."

**~ooOoo~**

His wallet was still tucked in her fingers a dozen mile markers later. "Can I look?"

He shrugged. "Knock yourself out."

She opened the thick wallet. It was full of cash, a hefty wad of smaller bills, tens and twenties mostly. Blood money. Some of it still bore the spatters.

"You been fighting, sugar?"

He nodded.

"Sometime between now and the Pacific, will you take me along?"

"Fightin' — that's his territory."

"I know."

"You really wanna see that?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Did he really need an answer? He seemed to be waiting for one. Maybe he did need the words. Or maybe he knew she needed to say them.

"I like watching him. He's magnificent. Beautiful." He looked at her sharply. "I haven't forgotten the first time."

"Me either." He inhaled, his head spinning at her scent and her words. "Liked whatcha saw?"

"I did." He made her insides turn to honey and run down her thighs.

"Me, too." His hand squeezed her knee.

"I was just afraid of how it made me feel. What watching you called up in me."

"Even then?"

"Even then. It was so wild. Powerful. Primal. It doesn't scare me anymore."

"Good. You know that's a two-part equation, right?"

Fighting and fucking. She knew.

"I know."

"He doesn't do hearts and flowers."

"I don't either."

He chuckled. "That makes three of us then."

"Is that a yes?"

He nodded, just once. Her approval always did it for him. Better than any drug and far more addictive.

He watched her pull out his license next. "James Logan. 37. Northwest Territories. I guess you weren't kidding about it being an alpine cabin." He grunted. "Birthday, March fifth..." Her voice trailed off. March fifth was the day he'd put his claws through her chest. That couldn't be a coincidence. Why had he chosen that date when he'd had the license made? "The fifth?"

He shrugged. That was too much too fast. Everything had been different after that day. A watershed that changed the course of his life forever. It wasn't until years later, until after Japan, that he realized he'd been reborn that night. That was the night that the future had become more important than the past.

"Logan?"

"That was the night I rejoined the livin', kid." That was all he could give her right now. Before that he'd just been surviving. Drifting. After she'd touched him, the world had been a very different place. It still was.

"Because of me?"

"Because of you."

Her eyes stung. She touched her scar. "I did this on the fifth."

"Because of me?"

"No. Because of me." Her voice was soft. "But I wouldn't change a single thing because I really like where I am now, you know?"

"I know."

She went back to his wallet wanting a return to a lighter mood, giggling at the movie stub she found. "Really, Logan? Skyfall?" She knew what his working life was like. James Bond wishes he were half the man Logan was.

"Don't give me that look. You know me. C'mon."

She rolled her eyes. "So we're not gonna see you on the top of a train any time soon?"

Not again.

"Not really my style." He snorted, but there was a little glimmer behind his hazel eyes that she could only guess at. "But at least they're always good for a laugh." Watching a spy movie with Logan was probably as annoying as watching a flying movie with Scott had been. He'd loved the aerial scenes but always bitched about how they'd gotten all the technical details dead wrong.

"You have no idea." Her eyes were sparkling as she fished out her wallet and pulled a worn Skyfall movie stub from the random collection of papers and coffee receipts. Halfway around the world, they'd seen the movie within days of each other.

"You too, huh?"

"Nah. I just have a crush on Daniel Craig," she teased.

"I thought it was that Neo guy."

"Him too. And don't forget Indiana Jones. Who was, by the way, my first actual real crush."

"Hmph." He rolled his eyes but she could see the amusement in the set of his mouth.

"Or maybe it's just I have a thing for violent leading men..."

"Keep it up and you're gonna get the real thing in action."

"Mmm..."

"Heh."

Her little fingers flicked through it slowly, savoring unraveling this little piece of him a bit at a time. A credit card. ATM card. Numbers for a Harley dealership. Storm's business card with Jubilee's number scratched across the back in Logan's distinctive, blocky scrawl. Condoms; a strip of three, extra large, ribbed, lubricated. She shivered. That was a hell of a lot of personal information right there.

Her eyebrows shot up. "Most guys only carry one."

"Most guys don't heal."

It was somewhere between smug and embarrassed.

His words came to her from a long-ago conversation.

_I have the healin'. I can go as many times as you want. As many as you need, baby._

God, they needed to stop soon.

"Hmm..." She kept looking. A book of matches. A small pencil. A worn silver key. She held it up.

"Cabin."

She tucked it back away. Hidden under a fold was a worn photograph. Not her. Not Jean. Not Mariko. An ultrasound, fuzzy and gray with a baby's blurry profile and one perfect little hand.

"Kaya," he said softly.

It was Japanese. _A place of resting._

He didn't have to explain. She understood.

Her tears fell; the softness that he couldn't and wouldn't give himself.

Johnny Cash played on.

* * *

Next up: **The Walk**. They were circling around some sort of physical catharsis. It was either going to be sex or a fight...


	22. The Walk

They stopped for gas, just before four. Logan was getting used to driving with Marie. They certainly had very different ways of travelling. He typically ate once or twice a day, huge meals to sustain him until the next one. He was coming to understand that Marie intended to graze her way across the country. She always had a drink — a coffee or a Slurpee or a bottle of water and she was rarely without some kind of snack. Pretzels, usually, but she wasn't picky. He'd seen M&M's, cashews, and popcorn also come and go and they'd only been on the road a day.

He finished pumping the gas and pulled around to wait. She was inside, grabbing God knows what. Logan leaned against the door of the truck. Waiting on his woman. He hadn't done that in so long and he was surprised to find he enjoyed it. There was a quiet contentment there he'd forgotten. A warmth in being a part of something larger than himself.

She emerged a few minutes later twirling a bag on her finger, her eyes searching the lot before coming to rest on him, standing by the truck, waiting for her. Her whole face lit up when she saw him. Joy shined out of her, warm and transcendent.

He opened her door for her and she tossed in the bag, turning in the small, charged space between the open door and his big body. Her arms slid around him and she pushed her hands into his back pockets playfully, fitting their hips together and tilting her face up to kiss his strong jaw.

He froze, his body completely rigid under her hands for a few moments before he recovered but by then it was much too late. She sprang away from him like he was on fire; looking down, looking away, as realization struck her hard. He'd been the one to initiate every single touch they'd shared since he'd turned up at her door. He hadn't welcomed her uninvited touch. Not at all. It cut her deeply though she could tell his reaction had surprised them both. It didn't make it hurt any less.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I should have asked..." She frowned. That wasn't right either. That didn't feel right.

Logan watched the light go out of her eyes. Her smile faded. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure why he'd reacted that way and he didn't know how to fix it now that he had. He could see his unconscious rejection had wounded her deeply, perhaps moreso because it had been instinctive rather than deliberate. An innate response born of his strong sense of self-preservation. He reached for her and she pulled away, scrambling up into the truck to avoid his hands. Magneto's gift reached for the door. He barely got his fingers clear. It slammed hard.

_Shit._

He checked her door anyway and walked around to the driver's side. Her eyes were closed. By the time he'd climbed in, closed the door and started the truck, her eyes were open again.

"Sorry, kid."

He wasn't sure what he expected, her tears? Her anger? For her to rip the scab the rest of the way off so they could deal with the infection underneath? He was wholly unprepared for what he got instead.

Looking back at him from the other side of the truck was the face she'd given him for the last decade. The mask. The distant smile that didn't touch her flat eyes.

Anger, hot and raw roared through him. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" she replied neutrally.

"That. That fuckin' mask. I hate it. I hate us not bein' real with each other. You said you wanted to be a straight shooter with me again. So shoot."

It slipped, just for a moment and he saw the pain underneath before she drew her armor back around herself. "I—"

"All of me and all of you. That's our deal. There's no goin' back now."

"Logan—"

"No more bullshit. You wanna hit me, then hit me. You wanna yell, do it. You wanna cry on my shoulder? I'm right here. You wanna kick and bite and scratch? I'm ready to bleed. Anythin' but that goddamn wall you hide behind. I'll tear it down brick by fuckin' brick if I have to. You know I will."

She sighed and this time when she looked at him, he could see the anguish, cold and bright. "I know I hurt you. I know it's not going to get better overnight. I know there are some things you probably won't ever be able to forgive," she winced as she said it but she kept going, "I own those, okay? I know I have a lot to make up for, Logan. But I have completely humbled myself for you and you know how hard that is for people like us."

He knew. He'd done it too, for her. Put aside his pain to bring her back from the edge. He knew the steep cost of that all too well. "Mmph."

Her eyes met his. Her voice was still soft but there was real steel underneath. "I'm willing to try, but that— that hurt. A lot. If you need time, then tell me you need time. That I can understand. That I can deal with. I'm not afraid of hard work or of hurting, but I don't want to be your punching bag. That's only going to end badly for both of us."

"I don't want that either."

Her hand went to her neck. "I want this, Logan. But you can't make a promise like that to me and then rip it away just to watch me bleed."

"A promise?"

She touched the bite he'd given her last night.

"A promise." She didn't back away from that truth. She made him face it, too. "We both know that's what it was."

His jaw clenched. She was right. He had given her that. Given her something she relied on to build from and then he'd pulled it out from under her. The resulting fall had knocked the wind out of her, a painful blow that stretched their fragile new trust dangerously thin.

She had every right to be pissed. He'd claimed her with teeth and breath and pain and the promise of hope as surely as if he'd given her the words.

"You're right," he said quietly.

The trees sped along, a blur of green and white. They both withdrew.

The sky was beginning to turn pink as the sun began to creep lower when Logan finally spoke. "I'm sorry. That was real shitty. If it matters, I didn't do it on purpose. I wasn't tryin' to hurt ya. I don't know why it happened."

"Maybe you should work on figuring that out." The words were soft rather than snippy. "I'm bruised some and a little shaky, but I'm here if you want to talk, okay?"

He nodded curtly. He didn't feel like talking. "Later. Not now." He didn't want to and he wasn't ready. Not at all. "But thanks."

"Sure."

"You wanna eat? We could stop." She hadn't touched her snacks.

"Not really. I wouldn't mind stopping early though."

His eyes jumped to hers.

"Not— not for that. I don't want that right now. Not like this. Sorry. I can't bare myself like that to you and not know if or when I'll be rejected. I'm sorry but I can't. Touch is too big a deal for me."

"I get it."

"Do you?" She wasn't sure.

"I do. And I do want you. It was never about that."

"You want me on your terms. In a way that feels safe for you. Something with defined limits."

"Hmph." He couldn't disagree.

"I can't stay within the lines with you, Logan. I'm a mess. I'm real and I'm hurting and my feelings are big and deep and totally out of control. I don't mind being in that place with you, but I can't be there alone and when I put my hands on you and you freeze up like you're waiting to take a punch, it makes me feel like we're on opposite sides, not working the same problem, you know?"

"I get it, okay? Christ. You don't hafta hammer it home so goddamn hard." She was right and it made him feel defensive, mostly because he wasn't sure why it had happened. He didn't want to hurt her still, did he? He honestly didn't think so, but it still didn't explain why he'd frozen up with her in an unguarded moment.

He felt her pull back as much as saw it. She was practically plastered against the passenger door. The emotional distance was further still.

Fucking perfect.

"Sorry," she mumbled looking as miserable as he felt. "Maybe it's best if we just cut off early tonight. Take a break for a while. I could use a walk."

"Yeah. Maybe that'd help. Get out of this truck for a while. Stretch our legs."

"I meant a walk by myself." He felt like she'd slapped him. "This is a lot heavy stuff happening really fast. We're both used to being alone. Maybe a little space would help. I just would really like to take a walk. Clear my head a little."

He was not at all on board with that plan. No way. He hadn't even been comfortable with the idea of her waiting alone outside the restroom.

"You comin' back?" His voice was tight.

She actually flinched.

He could tell his question had heaped one hurt upon another.

"Yes. I'm not like that. I wouldn't do that. If I was going to leave, I'd tell you to your face."

"So we could duke it out?" He was only half kidding.

They were circling around some sort of physical catharsis. If it wasn't sex, it was going to be a fight. He wondered which side would win out first. That was a point spread no bookie would ever make money on.

"So you'd have the truth. So you'd have answers. You don't need more unanswered questions hanging over your head. Your life has had enough of those." Her arms didn't unfold, but she turned to him slightly. "I'm not leaving. You made me a promise last night and I'm holding you to it. You made me another in the diner. I want those things you promised me when we're both ready. But I'm pretty hurt right now and I think you must be too if that's your default response to my touch. You piss me the hell off, you know? We're caught in this cycle of hurting each other and pulling back, but I still respect you. I wouldn't just take off. I'm not like that."

"Anymore," he added quietly.

He'd been chasing her for years. She could understand how he'd might feel a little raw about that.

"Anymore." She owned it. He was not wrong.

 

**~ooOoo~**

She was gone minutes after they checked in. She took her wallet and knife but left her pack. That was something, at least. Though he knew she'd be able to replace any of what she'd left behind easily enough.

He'd wanted to touch her before she left but she was skittish and wanted no part of him physically. He understood why, but it still left him feeling bitter and resentful.

She told him not to wait up and she didn't look back. That bothered him too.

He ate dinner alone, cheap fast food burgers and a bottle of Jack from the liquor store on the corner. Neither the Flames-Blackhawks game nor the long, hot shower he took did anything to relax him. Finishing the bottle helped marginally. She'd left before 5PM. He watched 9PM come and go. Time seemed to crawl. Midnight came and went and there was nothing to do but think and brood. He saw the clock flash 2AM before he finally fell into a restless sleep.

When he woke at 4AM, he knew she was back before he even opened his eyes. He could smell her, smoke and booze and the pungent stink of a crowded bar clung to her hair and clothes. The salt of tears was in there too. She'd been crying. Under it all she still smelled good, like fresh snow and the intoxicatingly heady scent of a woman ripe for a man's seed; fertile and lush. Peaking. The resulting blood rush was more an annoyance than a pleasure, a function of biology rather than desire.

She was sleeping on the small couch, her head pillowed on her jacket and her knees drawn up. Her hair spilled loosely under her cheek, a satin river pouring to the floor. Why hadn't she joined him in the bed? Because she was afraid of being rejected? Because she just didn't want to? Because she was perfectly within her right to have some lingering issues with trying to rouse him from an unfitful sleep given their history with that particular subject?

It bothered him that she'd managed to come in and get settled without waking him. A mouse fart in the forest woke him. The pressure of fingers on a doorknob and the rasp of bare feet on carpet in the room next door woke him. Even silence could wake him if his brain was expecting the distracting hum of background noise.

Nobody had gotten this close to him while he was asleep except for that night he'd put his claws through her chest. What did it mean that her nearness didn't rouse those protective instincts? Did some part of him recognize her as safe? As his? As a part of him and therefore not a threat? And if that was the case, why did he tense at her touch when he was fully conscious and capable of defending himself, and blissfully continue to sleep when he was much more vulnerable? It made no sense.

Careful not to wake her, he covered her with his flannel shirt and jacket. He couldn't bring himself to cover her with the comforter from the bed. Even though he'd chosen a nice hotel, it smelled vile; a stale petri dish of male DNA. It lay in a rumpled heap in the corner.

Ripping the sheets and pillows from the bed, he made a nest on the floor by the small couch and stretched out. It wasn't as good as next to her with her body wrapped around his, but on the floor beside her was better than across the room in a cold, empty bed.

The wood floor was hard and uncomfortable and so was he, but he'd survived worse. Tucking a single silky curl of her hair around his finger, he closed his eyes and surrendered at last. A silent, shuddering sigh left his body as sleep finally took him.

She was here.

She was safe.

He could rest.

* * *

Up next: **The Couch**. Pillow talk without the pillow. It took a decade, but they finally talk about _that_ night.


	23. The Couch

Marie woke by slow degrees. The unfamiliar surroundings made her feel slightly disoriented for a second before it all came flooding back. Logan. Their fight. Her walk. The couch was uncomfortable under her and her hair was caught. She couldn't move her head. Her eyes opened. She was surprised to see Logan asleep on the floor beside her, her hair twirled around his fingers. The unexpected gesture was sweet and a little bit sad, too.

Kitty's youngest co-slept with her and Pete for a long time. She once shared that he soothed himself to sleep touching her hair but that he was a rascal and twirled her long hair around his fingers so that he'd know if she tried to slip away for some time with Pete during the night. Thankfully she could phase away after he fell asleep, but it had been a source of amusement for some time.

Marie wondered if Logan was touching her hair because he truly desired closeness or if he was simply afraid she'd leave him again while he slept. Knowing him, it was probably a little of both. Her eyes fell on him. It was hard to look anywhere else. Even in repose, he seemed to dominate the space around him. She wanted to take him in and took the rare chance to observe him freely in an unguarded moment.

His chest rose and fell evenly. She'd never seen his face so at peace, without the familiar tension that always seemed to be thrumming through him just under the surface. It made him look younger. Not less imposing, even at rest his physical presence was too intimidating, but she could see a touch of the vulnerability he usually kept well buried.

It made her want to slip down and cuddle up beside him, to press herself against him and feel the power of his body in a way she never had before and to offer him the solace of her own. But even as that idea formed, reality squashed it. She didn't want to risk another rejection. A small sigh left her lips. The cadence of her breathing changed. His eyes opened.

His first thought was to pull her into his arms. He wanted to so badly but the uncomfortable tension humming between them told him not to try. He kept his hands to himself. Except for the one that was snagged in her hair. He eventually let the silky curl go, but he couldn't resist stroking it one last time before he did. It felt good and he let her see his enjoyment.

"Hey, kid." His voice was rough. Too much Jack. Too little sleep. Too much brooding and worry. He'd spent half the night thinking, turning things over his mind, trying to make sense of where he'd found himself. He felt miserable, inside and out. The healing didn't do shit to fix that. His head hurt and he wanted some coffee and a hot shower. And for his morning erection to subside before he did something stupid with it.

"Hey," she greeted softly, resting her cheek on the back of her hand and looking down at him.

"Feel better?"

"A little." She noticed he'd covered her with his shirt and jacket and she felt a fuzzy warmth spread out from her chest at his tender care of her. She snuggled up a little more under them both, inhaling deeply. His scent clung to them. Her insides felt heavy, thick like amber honey. "You?"

"Not really, no." He was stiff and sore, too. The soft nest of sheets and pillows he'd made hadn't done much to blunt the unforgiving hardwood beneath him. He stretched, frowning at the morning's cool bite on his exposed skin but he didn't bother to cover himself. He'd long since become inured to the discomforts visited upon him. Too hot. Too cold. Too muddy. Too sandy. None of it mattered. The only one that still pissed him off was too wet. He hated the cold creep of water running down the back of his shirt. He waited for the pop in his neck and then stretched his arms up, tucking them beneath his head with a soft chuff of air. He liked being next to her but he wasn't feeling too optimistic about what this day might hold.

Marie was unable to keep her eyes off him. Her insides unspooled at the sight of him stretched out below her. Everything about him was hard. His visage. His muscles. The tension in his body. The steely glint in his eye. Even now, at rest, he was masculinity personified; a gloriously male animal. Her eyes were drawn down from the unruly points of his hair to the dark scruff on his jaw. It was heavier than he usually wore it. More unkempt. It made him seem rougher, wilder. The hair on his naked chest was darker than the hair on his forearms. The hair under his arms was the darkest of all, wild like the hair on his head but not quite as dark as the thick tangle between his legs.

She couldn't see it now - he was wearing gray boxer-briefs that were mostly covered by a sheet - but she remembered how it had felt under her fingertips and against her lips, wiry and springy as she'd pushed her tongue into it to lick at him. She liked the natural beauty of his body, the thick bands of tightly corded muscles under the liberal sprinkling of dark hair. She responded to it on a base level, something deeper than a passing appreciation for the hairless, sculpted bodies that were so popular these days. Those she could take or leave. He was different. He made her burn. Made her want to sink to her knees. Made her crave the weight of his body and the sting of his teeth, the crash of his hips and the taste of his blood, the scent of his skin and the dark promise in his amber eyes.

It made her stomach feel heavy, as if it was being pulled down to meet the ache he'd woken between her legs. She seemed to be perpetually wet around him and she found that disconcerting on a number of levels. After a decade alone, it was frightening to want another person so much, to need him the way she needed air and sunlight. Her body shifted restlessly.

His eyes closed but she noticed he turned his face, his nose, toward her. He shuddered, just the smallest movement, but for a man like him, he may as well have staggered under a fierce blow.

"Christ," he muttered so softly she almost couldn't hear it. She watched as he forced his chest to fall in an even rhythm.

"Sorry," she whispered, not quite sure what else to say.

"Don't be." His eyes opened. "S'real. Honest. I like that. Scents don't lie."

"But people do?"

"Most of 'em, yeah."

"I'm sorry," she said again. This time he knew she was talking about the lies she'd told him and not her involuntary response to his body.

"I dunno if you should be. That's your armor. How you protect yourself when you're hurt. Same as me hunkering down to take a punch. You do it with words. I do it with this stupid body that's too damn dumb to die."

That surprised her. It was probably the first thing he'd said to her that hadn't come from a defensive place.

"The only reason I'm still breathing today is because of your body and the pieces of you I took that night I tried to wake you. It's not dumb or stupid. It's beautiful."

"You didn't take nothin'. I gave it willingly." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "That's all I could do. What the fuck do I know about healin' other people, darlin'?"

"What did it feel like?" She only knew what it felt like from her side.

"Which time?"

A little touch of arrogance there.

He deserved it.

"In your room," her voice was soft. They'd never really talked about the details of that night. "That's the one I think of the most often."

"Why?"

"It was the first time. That's how I think of it. Our first time. Some of you inside me. And it was just us. Private. At least at first. What happened in the torch was harder. Everyone saw it and there was no privacy. The aftermath was intrusive and I hurt you so much."

"A good hurt," he finally managed to rumble out.

"So that's what you felt? Pain?"

"No. I don't mean it like that. It changed me. The change hurt. Seein' the world and myself differently when I woke up- that hurt."

She smiled a little at that. "So it wasn't pain?"

"No."

She waited, not wanting to press too hard but still unwilling to walk away from this difficult topic. "Take your time, sugar."

"It ain't that I dunno how to say it. It's just I feel weird sayin' it."

Marie understood that by 'weird' he meant 'vulnerable'.

"I feel 'weird' about us too sometimes. It's okay. I felt like that coming back this morning, but I did it for you. Can you maybe give me a little of that too? You'll be safe with me."

"You promise?" She recognized her old words from the train. Words he'd used deliberately, if the warm teasing glint in his eye was anything to judge by.

"I promise." She knew it wasn't all teasing. He was afraid of being hurt again.

He finally nodded, just once.

"I've thought a lot about it over the years. How it felt, I mean. I guess it mostly felt kinda like an orgasm."

"What?" her eyes widened.

Logan chuckled quietly at the shocked look on her face. "An orgasm, kid," he said again, just to watch her blush. "It was similar to that in a lot of ways. A little tickle under my skin at first and then a hot rush tearin' through me. Like a throttle, wide open on an empty road. Helluva rush, hair on fire and wantin' to get somewhere good in a hurry, you know?"

Her mouth open and shut but no sound came out. She managed a nod.

"It wasn't sexual pleasure. I don't mean it like that. I didn't get off on it. I mean the experience is similar. Rushin' into someone all at once, flat out, all wild and out of control. Faster and harder until everything starts to fade out. And I could feel the pull, the tingle and draw on my mutation. You know what I mean, there." He looked at her pointedly.

"I do." That she did understand. There was an electric feeling, like some inner furnace kicking on and rumbling to life under her skin when she used his mutation. It wasn't exactly pleasure, but it felt good. Satisfying.

"All in, really fast. Wantin' you to just take it. To take all of me. Roarin' into you and feelin' the satisfaction of that and then feelin' spent and worn out, but you know, happy about givin' you somethin' you needed so bad. After I woke up and leveled out, I felt real good. Relaxed in a way I'd never felt before. I liked that part a lot, too." It took a lot to really wear him out.

He could tell he'd shocked her and he felt kinda good about that. Smug.

"I **-** um, wow. I'm not really even sure what to say to that." He was right. There were a lot of parallels to orgasm. Her brows drew together. "I overheard Jubes telling Storm about it once. She said it felt like a million bees stinging her all at once."

"Not to me."

"I'm glad."

"Made me hard as a rock the second time." The blush was back, coloring her cheeks scarlet. "I knew what to expect that time. I was lookin' forward to it- the rush, the fire under my skin." His eyes found hers. "Feelin' you all limp and still- that scared the shit outta me. Bad. I wanted you to live so fuckin' much. Wolverine was all riled up. I hadta let him out to get to you. We thought we were too late. Thought we'd lost you and then that glorious fire seared through us. It was the best damn thing I'd ever felt in my life."

That made her smile. "Really?"

"Really. So good. Made me hard, but it wasn't about sex. You were just a kid. It was just everythin'; the fight and the pull and the rush of givin' you back that spark." Perhaps it echoed an orgasm in that way, too. He'd given her a kernel of life that her body had nurtured.

"I get it."

"I hope so." He didn't want her to think he was some kind of freak, getting off on her pain. He put a part of himself inside her though, and that was intimate without being sexual.

"You've always been my good guy."

"Hmph."

"It was mostly just really scary for me. I was up there with you a long time. You were unconscious. Bleeding bad. I'd hurt you and you were in my head so loud. Erik too. I was scared and tired of waiting for everyone to figure out how to get us down."

"How did we get down? I always wondered."

"I held you really close and used Erik's power. I was so scared but I was more scared you'd die up there before anyone could get to us."

"You did that?" She'd done that at seventeen after a stranger had just raped her mind and nearly killed her? He'd known she was tough, but Jesus. That took some guts.

"Yeah."

"You're somethin' else, kid." There was admiration in his voice. Pride, too. And more than a little gratitude.

"Back atcha, sugar."

* * *

Up next: **The Shower**. (Hmm. Does this one even need a teaser? ) Alrighty then: She should have known he was too physical not to need some kind of tangible connection to her while he watched...


	24. The Shower

They woke up slowly, talking a little more about that night over a cup of mediocre hotel coffee from the small pot in their room.

"So, darlin'. Whatcha got on deck today? Still wanna head west?"

"Sure. I still want to. Yesterday didn't change that for me."

"Me either."

"I like not having a destination in mind."

Logan chuffed softly. "I can see how it might appeal to a girl who thought hitchin' to fuckin' Alaska at seventeen was a good idea."

"Yep. Free spirit. Takes one to know one." Marie winked at him. "I'm hungry too. Maybe a big breakfast before we head out?"

"You eat dinner last night?"

"No. Not unless Guinness and pretzels count."

"So it was like that, huh?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Shitty fast food burgers and a bottle of Jack. Least I made a marginal effort with the burgers though." His lips twitched and then he grimaced. The burgers had been small and tasteless. "I could eat a cow, horns and all."

"Sounds good to me. But I'm feeling kinda lazy right now and my hair smells like an ashtray. I definitely want a hot shower first."

"You want company?" he kept his voice carefully neutral.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. It's not that I don't want to. Parts of me do. It just feels... weird. Sorry." And by weird, she meant it made her feel much too vulnerable.

"Mind if I just sit in there with ya then? I won't touch ya or nothin'."

In that moment she understood he wasn't asking for sex, he was asking for intimacy. He was trying. In his own way, he really was. He was a sensual, physical person and it made sense it would be easier for him this way than with words. It was a tentative step for them both. It made sense he'd go with what he knew, to test the waters this way before trying it with words.

"Please." His voice was barely a whisper.

It wasn't begging, but it was as vulnerable a sound as she'd ever heard him make.

"Okay," she said simply, rising slowly from the small table.

"Really?"

Marie could tell she'd surprised him.

"Yeah. I think... I think that would be good. Punishing each other doesn't fix things. Keeping things buried doesn't fix things. Running from the pain doesn't fix things. I think I'm beginning to realize only working really hard on things fixes things. So I think maybe if I give a little and you give a little that we might find a way through all this, you know? What do you think?"

"I think I wanna try that."

"I'm so glad you do, sugar. I do too."

"I can't promise I won't hurtcha again, but I'll try like hell not to."

"Me too."

She stopped at her pack and rummaged through it for her toothbrush and razor.

He wasn't shy about watching her undress. She wasn't particularly careful with her clothes, leaving her jeans and shirt in a heap on the floor. No bra because he'd pulled it from her yesterday, wanting the ability to touch her unencumbered throughout the day.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

She didn't blush until she slipped off the lacy little thong.

He held out his hand, wordlessly.

Marie considered his silent request for a long moment and then reached out her hand, careful not to touch him as she handed them over. He'd said he wouldn't touch her, but she should have known he was too physical not to need some kind of tangible connection to her while he watched.

She didn't wait to see what he'd do with them. By the low humming growl of approval coming from behind her as she walked into the bathroom, she could guess. He wanted to know her with all his senses.

The scent of her filled his head, sweet honey and peat and a hint of smoke, transferred from her clothes. The scrap of lace was warm in his hand, rumpled and damp inside his clenched fist. His hand shook.

The bathroom was well appointed but not overly large. He flipped the lid down and took the only seat while Marie stepped behind the smooth wall of glass and turned on the water. His eyes followed every movement.

The whole image excited him, but he was a man; a feral, predatory man, and his gaze was drawn to the places that most aroused him; the fullness of her red lips, the heartbeat in the hollow of her throat, the soft upthrust of her full breasts, the dark curls between her legs, and that damned tattoo. It stood out like a bold brand on her milky white skin. Even at this short distance, it looked for all the world like three marks from his claws with a drop of blood at the bottom of each one. He swallowed as her pale, baby-pink nipples hardened under the hot spray. The citrusy scent of the shampoo annoyed him, covering her luscious, natural scent with some artificial blend of lemon and sage.

She didn't talk to him and he was glad. He wasn't sure what to say even if he could have pushed the words out of his thick throat. White foam trailed down her body in iridescent rivulets and made his blood burn, but it was when she slowly washed herself that he almost came up off the seat. It was perfunctory, banal. The movement of her hands wasn't lascivious and yet when they skated over her breasts and down between her legs, he felt a growl rise.

"Darlin'?" He choked the word out. She looked up from where she was preparing to shave her leg. "I gotta..." he gestured to the button on his jeans. He'd thrown them on in deference to the cold this morning and he was regretting that painful decision now. "Too tight," he said quietly. At her nod, he undid the button and freed himself with a hiss of relief. "I'll keep my word. I ain't gonna touch ya."

Apparently he wasn't going to touch himself, either. Marie had never seen him looking more miserable. His color was high but his shoulders were slumped in defeat and his elbows were resting on his knees. His eyes were dark and hooded. His hands were clenched together around the scrap of ivory lace and his erection jutted up out of his open pants, brushing against his belly as he breathed.

The razor juddered on her skin and she swore softly. There was no blood, of course, with her skin being the way it was, but it still stung. An answering rumble came from him. The primal sound caused a wet, slippery gush between her legs.

He was growling in earnest now as she washed away the silky rush of desire, partly because of the image of her hand moving rhythmically between her thighs and partly because it pissed him off. That just felt wrong. His woman, his mate, should not be washing away the proof that she wanted him.

She smelled so good. Ripe and luscious.

Logan was startled to find himself on his feet, inches from the glass, hands curled into fists to keep from touching her. His eyes were a smoldering amber and Marie wondered what he'd do if she reached out and touched him.

The growl turned into a snarl as she exited the shower and wrapped her body in a towel. Something wild raged within him. She shouldn't cover her flesh from his gaze. That felt wrong too. The urge to rip it from her and cover her with his body was strong. He wanted to bite and rut and rub himself all over her, to spread her wide and push inside. To plant his seed deep and keep her filled to overflowing.

"You still with me, sugar?" She wasn't afraid of the Wolverine, but handling him required a different approach.

"Yes," he said tightly. The Wolverine hadn't been leashed since she'd thrown the gauntlet down in that snowy parking lot three days ago. It felt good. He'd never just let him out like this before. It was a unique experience to have that wildness in his consciousness alongside his logical, reasoning mind. Unique and addictive. He wasn't sure he wanted to go back.

He wasn't sure he _could_.

The shower was still running. "Your turn." She moved toward the door.

"No."

"No?"

"Stay."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Logan?"

"Stay," he repeated, shucking the jeans with a casual shove. "Watch me."

Her face was hot and her chest felt tight. She'd never seen his naked body except in her dreams. He was magnificent. And in the small, confined space of the bathroom, the height and breadth of his body was savagely beautiful. Imposing. He was so big. For one long moment, she felt like that terrified girl again. Not scared of him, but scared of what he made her feel. But she had her own power now. They were equals. Perhaps even rivals in some ways. Her blood was up too. He'd never claimed her. Never dominated her. Never came shuddering into her.

He stepped closer.

She could smell him. Feel the heat of radiating off his big body. See the blood pounding in the thick stand of flesh between his legs. Again, she had the strange, overwhelming urge to sink to her knees. In supplication? Apology? To suckle him? To feel his body cover hers? She wasn't sure.

He was very close now. Not touching. Not yet. But she could see the pulse jumping in his throat and see his nostrils flare as he took her in.

"Do. I. Excite. You?"

His breath was warm on her skin. Her belly quivered. Deep inside, she felt her womb contract at the quiet, intense words.

She nodded, eyes wide.

"Good."

The moment was charged so heavily with sex that she felt deflated when instead of pressing his advantage, he stepped away, eyes once again downcast as he stepped into the shower and under the hot spray. He adjusted the nozzle for his height and turned the temperature up near scalding before he finally sighed.

The tension didn't leave his body. It didn't relax under the water the way hers had. He was tightly strung. His body hummed with it. He was thick and hard against his belly, throbbing and painfully full. He didn't touch himself except to wash, just as she had. His hands didn't linger. Didn't stroke or tease. He washed his hair and then his body, frowning slightly at the citrusy-herbal scent on his hands and skin.

Her pulse jumped when he washed his most intimate flesh. That was something at least. She wasn't sitting passively either. She was standing at the open entrance of the shower, close enough to feel the damp clouds of steam and the occasional spritz of the water when his head got too close to the nozzle.

Their eyes met. He looked even more miserable than before. His eyes were dark and hooded; water sparkling in his dark lashes. His body thrummed with need and his shoulders still slumped slightly. She could see the thick stand of flesh throb with every beat of his powerful heart.

"That looks like it hurts."

"It does," he said simply, shrugging away her comment.

"Do you want to..."

"Only if you stay and watch."

He heard her gasp softly.

"I wantcha to watch me."

He very deliberately wrapped his hand around the thick base and slowly started pumping his fist. He still looked miserable. And uncomfortable. And driven.

And suddenly she knew. It still wasn't about sex. He was, in his way, trying to be vulnerable with her. For her. To let her close. To let her into his private world. She turned it over in her mind, still watching his fist.

He'd wanted her to watch him bathe. To witness the intimate care of his body. To see him naked. Nudity alone didn't make him vulnerable. His body was leashed power. He was just as lethal naked. Perhaps even moreso. But he was sharing his pain. She could see the misery etched in the lines of his body; in the set of his mouth and in the dark glitter of his eyes. He wasn't performing for a lover. He was hurting because this was all he had left. He had spurned her touch and she could see how much that knowledge tormented him. There was so much between them. Old wounds and baggage and the terrible fear of being hurt again.

His fist pumped faster. Her towel slipped forgotten to the floor. Her eyes were glued to his groin. His never left her face.

It was an act of desperation. Of anger. Of hope. There was pride, too. He knew what his body did to women. There was a darker thread, too. He wanted to punish himself. He also wanted her to see his power, his primacy; to see and to want him. Above all, he wanted her to know he was finally willing to be vulnerable with her.

He was moving out of the spray now. Leaning against the back wall for support. So close to where she was standing. A few inches away. Marie wanted so desperately to touch him but she was afraid of what might happen. He was too close. She didn't want to ruin his orgasm if he froze up again. He needed the release too badly. His left hand paused for a moment and squeezed hard before resuming the rhythm. The right was pressed against the cold tile, inches from her hip.

"Talk." He growled the word.

He'd promised himself he wouldn't ask for her touch until she willingly gave it on her own, but he couldn't be this vulnerable without needing something from her, too. He needed her touch. He would settle for her words. Anything not to feel so alone. So exposed. Raw and stripped bare.

"Logan?"

"Talk," he ground out, rougher this time as the edge drew closer.

She met his eyes for a moment, trying to read what he needed before her gaze flicked back down. She couldn't look away and he didn't want her to. He wanted her to see everything. Nothing hidden.

"You're so beautiful to me like this, sugar, all primal and wild."

"More."

"I love seeing you touch yourself. Watching how you do it. Seeing how good it feels for you."

"Yes! More raw."

"Raunchier?"

"More honest. Dirtier."

"You have the most beautiful cock I've ever seen. So thick. I wanted to suck it when I was seventeen and- and I still do today."

"God!" The growling was deeper now.

"You turn me on so much. Make me so wet. So excited. I just want to get down on my knees and show you how much."

"Fuck. Oh, fuck! Yes."

"You like that? I do. I fucking love you in my mouth. The feel. The way you smell. You came so much that night. So thick and sweet."

"Grrr..."

"I love the way you taste, sugar. I love the way your cock feels pulsing in my mouth. The way you feel coming down my throat."

"GRRR!"

He was stroking hard now. Real rough. Real fast.

"I want to feel you inside me. Coming so hard. Only you. Just you. Nobody but you inside me. Filling me. Loving me. Come on, sugar. Come on! Show me. Let me see you come. I need it. I need it so much! I need you!"

The world imploded, white and hot. A sound was torn from him, somewhere between a snarl and a sob. He shook and thrust forward into his fist one last time.

His orgasm was strong and showy. Five thick shots that splattered against the far wall of the shower and a literal handful of progressively smaller ejaculations that left him gasping. He'd been aiming for vulnerability and he got it. He'd also shared the unmistakable proof of his potency and virility.

The Wolverine had wanted his say as well.

"Oh, sugar..."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, panting hard.

His legs were shaking. He moved back under the spray, head bent, palm braced against the wall as the water beat down on his back while he pulled himself together.

"Good one?"

He nodded without looking at her. "Thank you." The words were soft. "God, I needed that so bad."

"I did too," she said softly.

He looked up at her for the first time, a question in his eyes.

"Thank you, sugar. That was beautiful."

He shut off the water.

She opened her arms.

He was there in two long strides. The touch was shockingly chaste after what they'd just shared. He stepped into her embrace but didn't move to touch her until her hands found his neck and drew him close. He bent and rested his forehead against her breastbone, wrapping his thick arms around her slender frame. They were both shaking.

"That was so good, baby. So good." He drew in a deep breath and it left him in a great, shuddering sigh. He still couldn't make the right words come.

She seemed to understand. They weren't going to fix this all at once. Marie was surprised he'd been able to give her that much. Her hands roamed his back, softly. Soothingly. "For me too, Logan. It was that for me, too."

He'd been watching her eyes the whole time. The best part was that they were soft again when she looked at him. Tender.

She was open to him again and he wasn't going to fuck it up.

* * *

Up next: **The Diner**. Logan gets to first base. Marie gets pie. The peanut gallery comments.


	25. The Diner

The intimacy in the shower made the morning easier in a lot of ways but harder in others. Both of them were aware that Marie hadn't found her pleasure. That still felt too uncomfortable, too scary. But she'd enjoyed Logan's pleasure immensely. It was a quiet enjoyment. The tension between them had eased slightly.

They had eventually parted. Marie dried him gently with her towel. He tucked a dry towel around his waist and lay back on the bed, boneless and loose while he watched her dry her hair and admired her magnificent ass.

She frowned when she got to her pack. Yesterday's clothes smelled like stale smoke and her other change of clothes was spotted with blood from when she'd sliced her hand on his claws. She was out of underwear, too. Normally she washed them in the sink the night before, but last night she'd just come in and crashed. She really wasn't in the mood to shop for more or to hit the coin laundry on the way out of town. They'd need to eventually, but not today.

That didn't leave a lot of options. Shrugging, she pulled out a pair of opaque black tights and shimmied into them before putting on her bra and pulling on a soft wrap dress in deep kelly green. It was clingy and comfortable. One of her favorites. It barely took up any room in her pack and it was made of some sort of material that was impossible to wrinkle no matter how poorly she treated it. It was the kind of look that could be dressed up or down. With her hair up and a pair of heels, she could blend into any swanky crowd. With boots and her scarf, she wasn't out of place at the bar with her heel on the barstool and a beer in her hand. It wasn't really warm enough for this weather, but it would hold her for today.

She slipped into her boots and wound her favorite scarf around her neck, it was white and soft, shot through randomly with silver threads. Gloves next, black like the tights and boots. She pulled on her jacket last before rounding up the last of her things into her pack.

Logan was still on the bed. He was awake but his eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling evenly. They opened as she sat on the bed.

"So? Breakfast?"

He took in her attire. "You look nice. Got a hot date?"

"Yep. And I'm out of clothes, too. It's either this or start stealing yours. There is a downside to traveling so light." She didn't want to think about wearing his clothes. That felt too intimate for where they were right now.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest. It faded as he noticed her pack on her shoulder and the absence of her things from the room.

"Goin' somewhere?"

"I'm starving, sugar. There's a diner across the street. You want me to bring back some breakfast for us?"

"Nah. I wanna go but I need to meditate first. It's been too long." It had dawned on him last night that it had been a week since he'd last meditated. He hadn't gone that long in years, even in the field he almost always made the time. No wonder he felt out of sorts.

"You want me to wait?"

That was the real question, wasn't it? He wasn't ready to share meditation with her. It was intensely private. That was too much intimacy too fast. He'd barely survived the shower. On the other hand, he wasn't exactly keen on the idea of her taking off with her pack.

Shit.

"I'm not gonna run," she said softly.

"Didn't think you were." He was surprised to discover that was the truth. He didn't really think she'd run. Not anymore. He still didn't like the idea but it didn't scare him as much now.

_Fuck. Like a Band-Aid, bub. One rip. All in._

"You go on ahead, darlin'. I shouldn't be too long. Thirty minutes."

"Take your time, sugar." She waved her phone at him. "I haven't caught up with the world in a few weeks. I'll just have some coffee and catch up a little. Take as long as you need. There will probably be about a thousand messages from Jubes. You could be in here all day before I get finished reading them." She wasn't ready to tell Jubes about Logan. She didn't even know how to explain what was happening between them just yet. But she knew there were bound to be dozens of texts and voicemails piled up by now.

"Heh." She was not wrong. That girl could talk. He could tell she wanted to touch him but something held her back at the last minute. He caught her hand. "Hey, don't do that, okay?"

"Sorry," she said, meaning it.

"I get it. I do. But just stop it, okay? If you wanna touch me, then touch me. Don't hesitate. Don't ask if it's okay. Just do it."

Touching him without provocation was different than what had happened this morning. His soul had been crying out for touch. That was not the same thing as touching him randomly just because she wanted to.

"I'll try, okay? It still stings a little."

"That ain't whatcha said earlier. You said the only way to fix things was to work hard on things."

"That's right, I did say that."

"Work harder."

"I will if you will, sugar."

"I'll take that deal." She stuck out her hand. He looked at it and raised one brow. "Nope. I ain't your business partner. I'm your lover, darlin'. I'll take a kiss."

Her mouth curved into a smile.

"Anywhere in particular?"

Logan waved his hand. He was only wearing a towel. There was a lot to choose from. "Anywhere you like."

The look in her eye told him she was definitely going to kiss him, even though he could tell she was still a little uncomfortable. He wondered where she'd choose. His lips? His palm? Knuckles? She had a thing for that spot on his neck. His forehead maybe? Somewhere silly? Big toe? Elbow?

She reached for the knot in his towel and his eyebrows nearly jumped off his face. It was almost cheating. Almost. Sex was still easier than tenderness and true intimacy that wasn't also about gratification.

He groaned softly at the way her scent changed as she looked at his body; the tangle of dark hair at his groin and the heavy droop of soft, spent flesh. She bent to him. Her hair tickled his skin. When she whispered, he could feel it.

"You shouldn't dare the Rogue, sugar."

She kissed the soft, pink tip of his penis. It was only the barest brush of her lips, but she took the last, lingering, pearly drop of ejaculate with her. She savored him quietly with her eyes and her tongue on her full bottom lip before she covered him back over with the towel.

When she moved to sit up, he caught the nape of her neck in his hand and sat up to kiss her mouth. Softly. Deeply. And then he bit her bottom lip with a little growl before turning her loose.

Her fingertips went to her lips and she had a strange expression on her face. One he couldn't read.

"Baby?"

She blushed fiercely.

"What?" he said, more softly this time.

"It's embarrassing."

"You just watched me get off, darlin'. How bad can it be?"

"That was my first real kiss."

He sat dumbstruck for a moment. "What?"

"I kissed Bobby once. And I kissed you." He remembered. Once to say a chaste goodbye at the lily pond. Once in anger to use her gift on him. "But nobody's ever kissed me before."

"Never?" He couldn't quite wrap his mind around what she was saying. Her words from the train came back to him. _'The first boy I ever kissed ended up in a coma for three weeks.'_ That definitely didn't count. But nobody? Ever? Goddamn.

"Never. I never liked the thought of kissing someone through a barrier. It's... weird and uncomfortable."

"Not even when you had the Cure? Or after Carol?"

She shook her head.

"Why the hell not?" That he was indignant for her felt strange and kind of nice, too. Even though she could tell some part of him liked it.

"Because none of them were you."

"Jesus, kid. C'mere." He pulled her close. Her soft admission humbled him. He felt bad for her. He'd never wanted that for her. He'd kissed Jean. He'd kissed his wife. There were few others over the years. He'd put his mouth on a lot of women, but it had rarely been to kiss them. At least not on the mouth. He was a little surprised when he realized he understood a bit more than he first thought about why she might have done that. There was sex and then there was intimacy. They'd both had far more of one than the other.

He kissed her again, slow and soft. His head spun. Christ, she smelled so good. Her first kiss. He'd given her her first real kiss. Didn't that beat all? He felt about ten feet tall.

When they parted, she touched her lips again. "Wow."

"Heh." He looked pretty smug.

"I like kissing you."

"Back atcha." He kissed her again, more playfully this time and then he pulled away to smack her on the ass with his wide palm.

"Now get goin'. I'm hungry and I needta clear my head before round two, baby."

She winked at him from the door, and he was pleased to see she was a little breathless. "Ding, ding, sunshine. I'll be waiting."

**~ooOoo~**

After she was gone, Logan got up and cranked the heat warmer before stripping off the towel and folding it up. He dropped it to the floor and knelt on it, rolling his neck with a smile. He was looking forward to this. It had been much too long.

He closed his eyes and let go, feeling his breath lengthen and deepen as he gave himself over to that boundaryless sensation. Here he wasn't Logan or the Wolverine or a woman's lover or a hard man who lived on the shadowy side of life. Here he was a part of something greater. Something that emptied him and filled him up again.

It was the first time he'd ever meditated where the Wolverine was already integrated into his consciousness. For years, meditation had been about only that. Learning to find balance with that wilder part of his nature. To enter into this place already in harmony was a unique experience. Usually it took quite a while to center himself. Today he tipped easily into the abyss.

Without boundaries the pain was always sharper at first and as it receded, there was something more than peace. There was clarity. Brilliant and pure and so sharp he could taste it. It was glorious.

Sweat dripped from him, tickling along his spine and beading on his face and chest. The hair at his nape and temples was wet. He'd only lost himself like this a handful of times in all the years he'd been meditating. He wouldn't have been able to sustain such deep concentration without his healing. The drain was too much. While he was physically exhausted, he was mentally exhilarated; refreshed and centered, deeper than he had ever been before. He felt good. Better than he had in a long time. Everything seemed so clear now.

He became aware of the world in slow degrees. The hardness of the floor under his knees. The hunger in his belly. The creep of sweat on his skin. The ticking of the heater. The howl of the wind outside and the lingering, citrusy scent of his lover. His eyes opened and he shook his head in surprise as he saw the clock. It had been nearly two hours.

While he couldn't quite feel bad for the profound experience he'd just had, the awareness that Marie had been waiting on him lit a fire under him to move. He dressed quickly, wiping the sweat from his neck and chest before pulling on his clothes and boots. He was out the door in minutes and jogging across the street to the diner, still a little breathless and sweaty.

The Blue Goose was one of those comfortable down-home places; lots of locals, lots of families, the counter was full and half the tables were filled. He found Marie at a little booth by the window. Her phone and an empty cup of coffee were in front of her, but her attention was out the window, looking towards the west. He wondered what was going on in her head.

Her whole demeanor brightened when she saw him. There it was again, that soft tender look that just made him damned glad neither of them had ever really given up. An uncharacteristically warm smile split his face wide open. It touched his eyes, too.

Happy. He was happy.

He slid in next to her and put his hand on her thigh as he gave her a light kiss on the forehead.

"Hey, kid."

"Hey, sugar. You good?"

"Better'n good. Tired but filled up, you know?"

"I know."

"Sorry I'm late. You ever have one of those sessions where you just get lost in it?"

"Once or twice."

He squeezed her leg, glad he didn't have to explain.

"To hell with the cow. I could eat the whole farm."

She giggled. "Sorry, but I couldn't wait. I already ate. But I've got room for more coffee and maybe a piece of pumpkin pie."

He raised a brow at her.

"Hey, don't give me that look. It's got veggies in it. Pumpkin's healthy."

Logan rolled his eyes.

The cherub-faced, white-haired waitress zoomed by with hot black coffee and a ready smile. It got bigger as he ordered the biggest breakfast on the menu despite the fact it was closer to lunch. A massive steak and eggs, hash browns, double sides of bacon and sausage, and an order of biscuits with extra gravy. She might have even tittered a little toward the end. Marie got her coffee and pie.

"What's with her?" he mused aloud as she left.

Marie's eyes sparkled. "She told me I was too pretty to be sitting here by myself and I told her I wasn't by myself. That I'd worn you out this morning and you'd be along when you could manage to drag yourself across the street." She giggled. "The more you ordered, the wider her eyes got. I think the biscuits pushed it over the edge. God only knows what she thinks I did to you."

A laugh rumbled in his chest. He could imagine her saying exactly that. She was a little vixen at heart. Always had been.

"What did you get?"

"The garden scramble with a slice of coffee cake."

They talked quietly while they waited, holding hands and discussing travel options.

His food came and he dug in, surprised when Marie stole a sausage link off his plate. He'd been wondering about that. She'd eaten bacon and egg sandwiches yesterday and they'd had roast beef sandwiches for lunch. He hadn't felt comfortable asking about it until now.

"I thought you were a vegetarian, kid."

She shrugged lightly. "I tried to be after Carol. It didn't quite work out. I'm still a Buddhist, but I need the meat now."

That didn't surprise him. She was a predator now. Of course she'd need meat. He didn't expect her to say more but she carried the conversation between bites of pie while he ate heartily.

"I got really sick afterwards. So gaunt and pale. It took Hank a while to figure out what was happening with me. I mean, invulnerable skin and healing, right? Makes being sick pretty improbable, you know?"

He knew. He nodded.

"Apparently the healing does a number on the metabolism."

Logan looked at his half eaten breakfast and grinned. "Hell, darlin'. I coulda toldya that."

"I just couldn't maintain a healthy weight eating that way. Veggies are yummy but not really calorically dense a lot of the time. I just couldn't eat the sheer volume of food required to keep up with the new industrial furnace burning in me 24/7."

"Sorry, baby. I know you'd rather not be eatin' Bambi."

It was teasing on the surface, but she could hear the sincerity underneath.

"It's not your fault. Besides, it comes with some pretty awesome perks, aside from having some of you in me. Getting to eat cheesecake and pie more often than not is certainly no hardship, sugar."

He grinned. The waitress came around again and refilled their coffees. Logan ordered a huge piece of chocolate cake. Her eyes widened and she gave Marie a curiously wry smile and a look that communicated she thought Marie'd really gotten the job done there. With interest.

When she brought his check there was a note in her loopy scrawl scratched onto the back of it.

_Mister-_

_She didn't eat nearly as well as you and she's a nice girl who tips well. Next time see to it she's hungry enough to order the steak, too._

_XOXO  
Linny_

He showed it to Marie and enjoyed the resulting giggle. Taking the pen from the little book the check came in, he tucked her note away in his wallet for posterity and wrote on the back of their copy:

_Linny-_

_I aim to make it my life's work._

_L_

Logan grabbed his wallet again. Bypassing the blood-spattered twenties, he tucked a crisp hundred into Linny's book, closed it and pushed it to the end of the table. When Linny came around to refill their coffees one last time and pick up the check, he favored her with a rare smile. "Thanks, darlin'. Keep the change, huh?"

She smiled brightly and nodded at Marie. "You best hang onto this one, honey. The rough ones always need a firm hand in the beginning but they make the best partners, in bed and out."

"Jesus, woman. I'm sittin' right here." His eyes twinkled. "And it was the shower not the bed."

"Hush up, sugar."

Linny smiled. "See? A firm hand, sweetie. Like I said. Remember that..." She topped off their coffees and nipped away to another table.

"Heh. She was kinda fun."

"I agree. What did you write back to her?"

"You really wanna know?"

"Yeah."

"I told her I aimed to make takin' care of you my life's work."

He saw her touch her neck briefly where he'd bitten her. "Oh." It was the softest gasp of surprise.

His smile sharpened. "In bed and out, baby. Whatever you need." He felt good. Relaxed. He wanted to tease her. To see her smile. He was surprised when her smile faded a little. Her expression was still open, but wary now and her delicate brows were drawn together.

"Hey, hey... what's goin' on in there, kid?"

He noticed she was fiddling with her fork. She'd absently folded it up accordion style, with the same amount of effort most people used to fold a paper straw wrapper.

Damn. It was too easy to forget how strong she was now.

She blushed to the roots of her hair when she realized what she'd done and she set the fork down on the table. It was rumpled and bent, barely a few centimeters long. She hid it under her palm and he could feel Magneto's power thrumming through her. It made his bones resonate unpleasantly. When she removed her hand, the fork was perfectly straight. Even the slightly bent tine it had arrived with had been fixed.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I haven't slipped that way in a long time."

"What's up with you?"

"I'm just nervous about what you said. About the future."

"Listen, kid. I can tell you I know it 100 percent. I've never known anythin' as confidently or as sure in my life. You're the one, darlin'. Whatever happens, from here on out - good and bad, it's you and me."

He saw her hand leave the table and then she hesitated.

"Do it," he whispered. "I told you, you wanna touch me, then touch me."

Her warm fingers slid into the hair at the nape of his neck. The touch was chaste and yet startlingly intimate. She stroked his hair, ruffling it in her fingers. It was still slightly damp and it was longer than he usually wore it. It brushed his collar, falling back from his face in thicker waves that made the wild points a little less distinct. She liked it. It made him look a little wilder.

"Mmm..." His eyes closed. "Feels nice."

She felt his body relax against hers.

"You wanna go back to the room and sleep a little more?" She understood the kind of exhaustion that came with such deep, introspective meditation.

"Nah. I checked us out. Stuff's in the truck."

"You want me to drive? Let you doze a little?"

Normally he covered every weakness. Any little sign of vulnerability or softness was crushed down or stamped out before anyone saw it. But for once, he just let himself be completely honest.

"Yeah. That'd be real nice, baby."

The bell on the door jingled as they made their way outside. His hand was at the small of her back. The day was cold and clear. The wind was sharp but he could feel the sun on his shoulders. His woman was at his side and the open road was before them. Climbing up into the truck next to her made him feel warmer still.

When Marie looked over, he had a strange look on his face.

"What?"

"Nothin'. Just somethin' you said to me once. I was thinkin' on it a little."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. That night by the lily pond. You said you hoped I'd find some place with the sun on my face."

"I remember."

"Well, I'm finally here." He put his hand on her thigh. "And it feels damned good, darlin'."

* * *

Up next: **The Confession** : "One part takin' care of you. Three parts takin' advantage. All parts possession."


	26. The Confession

Marie watched Logan sleep. He was under his jacket, dozing against the door. It made her smile. She thought he might prefer to curl up with his head on her thigh but he'd chosen the door with a flash of his teeth and an apologetic grunt.

"It ain't because I don't wanna touch ya, kid. It's 'cause I do. Too much."

His head in her lap when she smelled that goddamn good? Lush and ripe? No fucking chance. Even the confined space of the cab pushed his limits.

Still, despite the luscious scent, he fell asleep easily, comforted by her presence, by the rhythmic hum of the highway and by the soothing motion of the truck. She had Johnny Cash on again, humming quietly. Even that was familiar, now, and comforting.

He woke as Marie pulled into a gas station. The change in the rhythm was enough to rouse him from sleep. The scent of the strong, fresh coffee she brought back with her did the rest. He might have even ummed out a little purr of gratitude as she pressed the steaming cup into his hands.

Hers smelled sweet and chocolaty. He wrinkled his nose at her preference.

"Don't judge, sugar."

He grunted in amused derision.

He most certainly would.

She climbed in and started the engine, content to drive while he woke up slowly. It was going to be the last little town for a long while. In minutes there was nothing but forest and the occasional logging road.

Logan took a shallow sip. The coffee was strong and hot and surprisingly good. Over the years, shitty coffee had been his companion for a lot of miles and it was a nice change of pace from the usual. Good coffee in his hand. A good woman at his side. The sun was even still shining. It was cold as hell, and it felt like the temperature had dropped a good ten degrees since this morning, but he still couldn't find anything to complain about. He couldn't even keep the smile off his face. He had a lot of good thoughts swirling around in his brain just then.

Marie looked over.

"What's that look for?"

"Just thinkin' about this mornin'."

"Any part in particular?"

Taking a sip, he shrugged a little and decided on flat-out honesty.

"You really thought about suckin' me at seventeen?"

He enjoyed her soft sputter, but her recovery was smooth and that voice was pure southern comfort, husky and warm.

"Yeah. I did. A lot, actually." She couldn't read his expression. "Does that freak you out?"

"Nah. You've always been hot blooded, kid. A real firebrand."

"You think?"

She sounded pleased by his assessment.

"Nobody else ever bitched me out on a snowy road," he offered, enjoying her wry grin. "Nobody else ever called out to me like that in a bar to warn me about some asshole, or ever risked their life like that to save mine. So, yeah. I do think."

She was glad his definition of hot blooded encompassed more than just the sexual.

"So you don't think I'm weird for thinking about that?"

"Baby, you're all kindsa weird." His brow quirked playfully. "But you're my kinda weird."

That earned him a smile.

"It probably wasn't what you think, anyway."

"No? How many kindsa variations can there be on that theme, darlin'? Seems pretty straightforward to me." Open mouth. Insert coc _—_

"Well, it was. Physically, I guess. Definitely a lot of thoughts about my mouth on you. I meant it wasn't like a crush, like pining for something I couldn't have or feeling desperate. It was good. Safe."

"Safe? Baby, lotsa words come to mind when I think about your mouth on me, but safe ain't one of 'em." Incendiary. Incandescent. Intimate. Hot as fuck.

"No?"

Her eyebrows were pulling together and he could see there was something there he was missing.

"What's that look for? Why'd you pull back?"

"You don't feel safe with me?"

Understanding flooded him.

"I'm starting to again," he said honestly. He certainly had in the beginning. For a lot of years after that, too.

"I think it's different for me. I've always felt safe with you. Always trusted you. That's why it was okay for me think those things at seventeen. I was ready to _think_ them. More than ready. I just wasn't ready to _do_ them. Not really. That's why you were safe. I knew you'd never..."

"I get it."

"Did you think them too?"

"Hey, I never gave ya any reason to ever think-"

"That's not what I asked."

"Hmph."

"So you did think about it?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

He was surprised by that.

"They were about as fuckin' far from good as you could get, kid."

"Tell me."

"Hmph."

"Don't make me pull this truck over, sugar." The teasing defused the tension a little.

He huffed in amusement. Had she just used her mom voice on him? He felt his lips twitch. The idea of Marie as a mother made his chest warm alarmingly.

"Tell me."

"You gonna keep after me 'till I do?"

"Do you really have to ask? You're kinda stuck in here with me and even if you did escape, I can fly faster than you can run."

She had the gall to wink at him.

He let out a long-suffering sigh. She really did seem to have made it her life's work to drive him demented.

"Raw and wild. Outta control. All animal. All carnal. One part takin' care of you. Three parts takin' advantage. All parts possession. Lotsa shoutin' and teeth and hands that held on too tight."

"That sounds good."

"Bullshit. It sounds fucked up. You were a kid."

"You didn't give any of that to the kid."

"Hmph."

"You haven't given it to the woman yet, either."

He gave her a hard look. "Look, that stuff... yeah, it passed through my head. I ain't gonna lie about that. It did and I liked it. It got me off real good. But that's not what got me through the night."

"It's not?"

"Nah. It was mostly good stuff. Soft. Gentle. Thinkin' about havin' you close. Curled up with ya. Warm and safe."

Her eyes grew a little wet but she blinked back the tears, aware they'd make him uncomfortable. He could probably smell them, even over the coffee, but there was nothing she could do about that.

"I'm glad. I like that thoughts of me made you feel safe. I want to be that for you again. That's who I want to be with you. Safe and..."

"And?"

"Someone safe. Someone who's good _with_ you - and _for_ you. Someone worthy of the kind of love you have to give."

Her heartfelt, earnest words triggered an unpleasant memory.

_I see everything. All your shame. I'd rather have the glorious sadness than the kind of love you give. It hurts less. Your love is going to kill me._

Old words brought a rush of new pain. He'd never really let those words go. He'd held them close for years, letting them cut his heart to bloody ribbons. Using them to punish himself for all his faults, and there were many.

The kind of love he had to give? He wondered what she meant.

"What kinda love is that?"

"You love with your whole heart, sugar. I've always been envious of how easily you seem to do that. You jump right in. You're fearless. Reckless, even. Like it doesn't even occur to you that in opening yourself up that way, you could be struck just as deeply."

Fearless? What a joke.

"Believe me, I know it now."

She winced.

"Love is pain?"

"That's been my experience."

"Every time?"

"Every time."

"And yet you're still here. Dragging my sorry ass out of a hotel room. Making me face up to everything. Making promises." She touched her neck where he'd bitten her. "Pushing me to give it a shot when I'm so scared of screwing up that sometimes it hurts to breathe. You did that. You're the one, sugar. Not me. You are fearless."

"You got it all wrong, baby. This whole fuckin' thing scares the shit outta me."

"It does?"

"Yeah."

"I'm _—_ I'm actually kind of glad about that. It's nice not to be alone in that boat."

"You're not. I'm scared you'll decide it ain't worth the effort and bail. Just hitch that pack on your shoulder and disappear into the wind. I'm scared I'm gonna lose my shit and really hurtcha. The anger and rage? It's still there, baby. Even now. That's a whole scary thing by itself, right there. And I'm scared of walkin' through that last closed door with you, kid, not knowin' what's on the other side. Scared it won't be enough for ya. So fearless? Not by a fuckin' long shot. But stubborn? Yeah. Determined? Yeah. Obstinate and fuckin' bull-headed when I want somethin'? Hell, yeah."

"I need to pull over. I need to right now." She needed her arms around him like she needed air. "I need to hold you."

"Pull off up there." He gestured to an overgrown logging road. "Once you're a little ways in, pull off the road into the trees. Mosta these roads aren't in use, but when a rig comes barreling down with forty tons of logs, you don't wanna be in the way."

"You sound like you know that from experience."

He snorted. "Lost a good bike trailer that way. Fucker never even stopped."

They rolled into the trees. She was unbuckling her seatbelt and reaching for him even as she was throwing it into park.

"Oof." The force of her embrace surprised him, as did the embrace itself. There wasn't any hesitation in her now and that felt damn good.

He pulled her closer, slipping her across his lap with her legs stretched out on the long bench seat so he could tuck her head under his chin and hold her tight. Her grip on him was fierce.

Reaching over, he turned off the engine and heard her wild heartbeat in the resulting silence. Logan held her close, savoring the weight of her in his arms and the way she hung on to him so hard. They stayed that way a long time.

It was Logan who finally broke the silence.

"I've been doin' a lot of thinkin' since yesterday."

"Me too." He felt her shift against and settle deeper. "I'm not going to bail. Not this time."

"I know that." He tapped his head. "I know it in here."

"But not in here?" She touched his chest.

"It still hasn't sunk in. I've had a lotta years of it bein' the other way, kid. You gotta give it time. And it doesn't help that if you did decide to go, you can do it without leavin' a trail for me to track." She could literally up and vanish into the wind.

"I'm done running." Her voice was soft and very final.

"I can see that. I get it, okay?"

"Good. Sometimes I might need some space to work things out, but I'll always come back."

Logan nodded. "Is that what you did last night?"

"I tried. I drank my dinner, lost fifty bucks at pool, felt pretty sorry for myself on the way home because of how things had gone between us and I cried myself to sleep. Sometimes I really just need a good cry."

"I like smashin' heads better."

"Sometimes I like that too." He felt her smile against his chest. "What did you do?"

"Brooded, mostly. Was pissed at myself for fuckin' up and pissed at you for takin' it so hard. It's not like I was aimin' to hurtcha. Usually I just go with my gut but this time I really wanted to understand why I did that. Why my gut reaction was to freeze up when you touched me."

"And?"

"The long or the short answer?"

"Short first."

"I think it's because a part of me is still pissed atcha." Forgiveness had never come easy to him.

"I can see that." She nodded. "And the long answer?"

"It's complicated."

"I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Up next: **The Past**. "You ran and I chased you. I fuckin' hate that I had to and it hurt me every goddamn time you made me do it. Every time."


	27. The Past

Logan sighed.

"Why I froze up... it's not really like one thing. It's a buncha things all twisted together."

Marie waited in silence.

"I think it's mostly that I don't know what the fuck I'm doin'. I don't have a lot of experience with this sorta thing."

"Look, I'm not trying to be difficult here, Logan. But you loved Jean. You loved your wife. It's not that new a concept."

"That's different."

"Different how?"

"We needta talk about Jeannie."

"Hey, you don't have to-"

"I needta do it while I can, huh?"

"Okay." Marie was surprised. He didn't open himself often, and especially not about other women. She didn't want to push him but if he was ready, she was all ears.

"With Jean... that was all animal. All visceral. That thing in her - the Phoenix - that was a strong draw. Wolverine was all over that. I'd never run across a woman he couldn't break before."

"I see." Jealous of a dead woman. That couldn't be good.

"I knew deep down you'd grow inta that someday, baby...I knew it straight off. But it was years away and I had no way of knowin' if you'd want somethin' with me when you got there. I didn't wanna put that expectation on you... you hadta be free to choose your own path and in the meantime, I wanted her and she was... safe."

Marie winced. "Ouch."

"Hey, I don't mean it like that. Even as a kid you were good with my, uh-"

"Soft places," she ventured quietly when he hesitated.

"Yeah. Jeannie, she didn't want any of 'em. She just wanted the animal. That was okay. I didn't wanna give more than that at first and it was kinda nice knowing it wasn't just barflies and cage bunnies. That I could turn the head of a good woman once in a blue moon." With her it had been all hard and fast. He still remembered the kiss in the medlab. She'd made him bleed and when he growled into her mouth, she'd done it again. He'd tried softness with her in the woods the night the Blackbird had almost crashed and she'd thrown it back in his face. "That's why she was safe. She didn't want any of my heavy shit. She just wanted..." he shrugged. "I guess she just wanted. Period."

Her heart hurt for him, for his estimation of his own worth.

"I'm sorry." It wasn't easy to say. "I'm sorry you got hurt in that. Jean was an adult, but I think the Phoenix was like a child in a lot of ways. All joy and wildness and when she wanted something, she wanted it immediately and to hell with anyone who stood in her way."

"Yeah. That's about right."

"I think she cared for you in her own way. As much as she was able, I mean."

He just shrugged. He doubted it. Even at the end he'd had to fight for the right to stand in front of her and declare himself and while he felt a lot of things for Jean, that was the defining moment for him right there. He'd risked everything for that once chance and all she'd wanted from him was to use him to set her free. He had loved her, truly loved her, and she'd used that to get what she wanted. He understood it was probably the right choice for everyone, but it didn't make it any easier to bear.

"It went the other way with Mariko."

"The other way?"

"Yeah. I found balance in Japan. Control. What I had with her... that was only about the man. There was nothin' but tenderness and softness with her. I figured out how to push the Wolverine down deep unless I needed him to come out."

"That doesn't sound good."

"It wasn't." She could feel his chest rise and fall against her as he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "But it was the quiet heart of my life. I think I needed to just set the burden down for a little while. Mariko gave me that."

Marie rubbed his arm softly. "Sugar, I think you gave yourself that." She could feel Mariko moving within her. "I think she loved you because of that and not in spite of that."

"I hope so." He fixed her with intense stare. "You ever been in love?"

"You mean with someone other than you?"

"Yeah."

"Once." She let out a shuddering breath. "But it wasn't good. Wasn't right."

"Richard?"

Her brows drew together. "How'd you know that?"

"I saw the way you looked at him." His chest felt tight. "What about that wasn't right? It sure as hell looked right from the outside."

"We were good together. Comfortable. I did love him. But it wasn't good because..."

"C'mon, kid. Work harder. You sealed that deal with a kiss." They both warmed at that memory.

She took a deep breath and the words came out in a rush. "I let him go because he deserved to be loved for himself and not because he reminded me of someone else."

Logan was shocked into stillness for a long moment.

"Someone else?" He wasn't about to let her run from this. He wanted to hear her say it.

"You, okay? He reminded me of you." She swallowed hard. "He was a good person. He deserved better than being a stand-in for the man I really wanted."

"Jesus." She had some guts to say it flat out like that.

"Yeah."

"I ran to the other side of the world and married someone who had your name, so who'm I to judge, darlin'?"

She huffed softly. "I'm sure that wasn't why you married her."

He nodded. It had taken him a while to get over her name, to be honest, but he'd used an intimate nickname for her more often than not. She was a princess in more ways than one. "She was a good person too. Beautiful inside and out. A lady. Refined and contained. I admired that."

She was everything he wasn't. So controlled.

"So, pretty much the opposite of me, huh?"

"The opposite?" He didn't follow. They were both intelligent, beautiful, strong, resourceful women.

"Sugar, I'm not champagne and caviar. I'm not refined. I'm back rooms and bar stools and fightin' and cursing, all whisky and smoke and hard lovin'. Nothing about me is contained. I'm a mess of problems and feelings that are too big to be reined in. And all that crazy's poured in an indestructible body and capped off with a slow drawl and a quick temper. I'm hardly a prize."

She was to him.

Logan just shrugged. "You fit me."

"Now." The word was quiet, but unwavering.

"Yeah. Now. It's about time. We're due. We've been on this road a long fuckin' time."

"That's the damn truth." It had been thirteen years since that night she'd seen him in that cage in Laughlin City.

"This road of ours? You don't get the same view from the peaks that you do from the valley, kid. It's not that either is better. Both are incomplete. This is our road, but at seventeen, baby, you couldn't see where you needed to be for us to fit until you got there. And even if I tried to tell you, it couldn't be done. You needed the miles on ya to even be able to see it from there. I needed some miles too." He hadn't known how to love with his whole heart. That had taken time, too.

He was right.

"I'm here now."

"We're both here now." He looked into her face. "I loved Jeannie with the animal and I loved Mariko with the man. You're the only one I've ever loved with all of me, kid. And that's new and scary and I have no goddamn idea what I'm doin'. So yeah, it is different." She moved to touch his cheek and he caught her hand. "It ain't gentle or sweet. It's wild and strong and so fuckin' far out of control I'm not sure I can ever get the lid back on it."

"Good."

"Good?"

"That's how I want it. That's how it should be. All wild and out of control. Screw this 'love is a gentle rain' bullshit. I want the hurricane. I want howling winds and the violent storm and to be lashed by the rain and pounded by the waves. That's what feels real to me. Feels right. I'm built to take it and so are you."

A low growl escaped his throat.

"I'm still pissed as hell atcha."

"Yes. More." He needed to rip that scab away. To address the festering wound underneath.

"You ran and I chased you. I fuckin' hate that I had to and it hurt me every goddamn time you made me do it. Every time."

"I'm so sorry."

"I know that - but the words, they don't take away the pain. The years of hurt. The rage I feel. The shit you did to me... the shit you said to me. Nobody's ever cut me like that. Not even those fuckers in the lab." Those wounds had never healed. They were still bleeding.

There were tears on her face now.

"You're right. You're right about all of that. I did hurt you. Some of it I even did on purpose."

The growl was a snarl now.

"Sorry doesn't make it better. I get that, sugar. I do. We've both bled for this." He didn't miss how she subconsciously touched her arm. "I needed to say those things and you needed to hear them. To feel them. Maybe if I was different, better, I could have found a way to make you understand without that, but I'm not and I can't. I'm all kinds of screwed up, Logan. All I can tell you is that I won't do it again. I can't promise I'll never hurt you again, but I can promise to try not to."

"Not good enough."

"What do you want? There are no guarantees in life. You have to take the leap, same as me."

He thought that over.

"I froze up 'cause I'm still pissed at you for hurtin' me. For breakin' me down. For needin' me even when you were treatin' me like shit."

Marie could feel the tension in the big body under hers, he was almost humming with it. "Logan-"

"I ain't the forgivin' type, kid. I guess I just dunno what to do here because I know I need to forgive you for us to get past this, it's just I ain't ready to say that what you did to me is okay. 'Cause it ain't."

"You know, forgiveness- it's not something you give someone else. It's something you give yourself. It doesn't mean you're accepting what the other person did to you, or that it was okay for them to do it, or that you agree with any part of it. It doesn't mean that. Not even a little."

"Hmph."

"It's not that at all. It's letting go of something so that it doesn't weigh you down anymore. So you don't have to have those stones around your neck any longer."

He was quiet a long time.

"How did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Forgive me for what happened at the lily pond."

"Oh. Um, I'm not sure it would be good to-"

"Tell me."

She put his hand on the scar on her arm.

"I forgave you the night I did this."

"Before or after?"

"After."

"More."

"I was just laying there in the grass after. When I came to, I- I knew it hadn't worked, obviously... but I could tell that it had been a close thing. Minutes. Maybe seconds. I could feel the other side still, so close, even as I felt the cut slowly knitting back together. There was so much blood. I was so cold. Too cold to even shiver. It was hard to breathe. The sky was clear above me and I watched the stars for a long time. I just decided I was tired of the blood and the pain and the hurt. I could feel you so strong in me, bright and beautiful. I just decided to let it all go. Holding onto it clearly wasn't working for me."

Her attempt at levity fell flat. There was nothing about Marie lying in her own blood that amused him.

"Then what?"

"When I was strong enough, I crawled over to my pack, got my phone and called Hank. He came and got me. Patched me up so I'd finish healing. Gave me blood. He didn't have to ask what had happened. He knew what I'd done the second he saw me. I lived on his couch for a while. It took some time, but I eventually put myself back together. Hank helped a lot. He's a good friend."

"I hate that you did that because of me."

"I did it because of me."

"You know what I mean."

"Then you should know what seeing you in pain does to me."

"I know," he said quietly.

"I don't want to hurt you, Logan." She turned in his arms, moving to straddle his lap, one knee on either side of his hips. Her hands came up to take his face in her palms. He let her. She didn't hesitate and he didn't freeze up. "No more pain. No more hurt. Only good things. That's what I want to give you now. Only good things."

"Show me."

* * *

Up next: **The Truck**. (I know. _Finally_ , right?) It's fitting their first time happens where it all began. It starts with a kiss and ends with steamy windows...


	28. The Truck

Marie lowered her mouth to Logan's. The kiss was deep and wet.

The snow outside was silent. The windows inside were foggy with condensation. It made it feel like they were in another world.

"I wanted to touch you this morning," she said against his lips when they parted.

"When?"

"In the shower. Watching you."

"Why didn't you?"

"I was afraid it would ruin it for you. You were so close."

"Hmph." His hands settled on her hips. "Look, I can see why you'd feel that, baby. But me freezin' up? That was one moment in the dozen years we've shared. Just one. Don't let it define the next dozen, huh?"

"Okay." She smiled at him then, a true smile that reached her eyes and made him feel warm all over, despite the chill in the truck.

"Just like that?"

"What do you want me to say? Life's too short? That's not true for either of us. Who knows how many centuries we have? But we've both been miserable for a long time. Maybe we've suffered enough to earn some good things. It's just that happiness is... unfamiliar to me."

"Me too." He nodded, pulling her hips closer. "I know fuck-all about bein' happy and even less about contentment, darlin', but we gotta start somewhere."

"It's new and scary, but I want to try, now, here with you. But only if that's what you want too." She could see him struggling. This type of vulnerability was foreign to them both.

"I do." His hands tightened on her. "No more games. No more bullshit. No more excuses."

"All of you and all of me."

"Done."

"Just like that?"

"I know what I want." He dropped a kiss on the tender spot on her neck where he'd bitten her. He wanted a lifetime, no- several lifetimes, learning how to be happy with her. But the words wouldn't come. He'd reached his limit and thankfully, she seemed to understand that.

"Me too." This time the kiss was deep and a little wild.

He pulled her closer, his hands roaming up her back to tangle in her hair as he trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses across her jaw and down her neck. Logan smiled against her throat. He still couldn't believe he'd given Marie her first kiss only this morning. His mouth found hers again. He couldn't stay away. She was intoxicating. Those lush lips, parted and panting. That impertinent little tongue that darted out to play with his. The soft moan in her throat when he pushed his tongue into her mouth and she suckled him.

His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with pleasure as they parted.

Her lips were rosy and wet. He surged up under her to take them again. He couldn't get enough of her.

"God, darlin'. Y'feel so good..."

"I can't stop thinking about this morning."

"Which part?"

He palmed both of her breasts, humming out his pleasure as he caught one nipple and then the other, rolling and pinching through the soft green dress.

"Watching you..."

The folds of her wrap dress parted easily under his inquisitive fingers. He groaned at the black lace against her milky white skin and brushed it aside impatiently, hungry for the soft upthrust of pink on ivory.

"Watchin' me what...?"

She reached between them and cupped her palm over the bulge at the front of his jeans. She could feel the warmth, even through the denim, and he growled a little as she stroked him.

"All naked and wet. Strong. Touching yourself. Showing off for me."

Christ, she smelled so good. Luscious and ripe. He was going to lose his mind.

"Liked whatcha saw?"

"I did." Pleasure and satisfaction spiked in unison. Her implicit approval had always done that to him. "It was the hottest, most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life." A gush of wetness between her legs followed her words and he stiffened under her, breathing deeply. "Did- did you like what I said?"

"Fuck, yeah." He pulled her hand off of him and pushed her hips down to rock up under them with a low hiss as he ground himself against her. "That you think about that..."

"Say it, sugar. Say it!"

"That you wanna suck my dick and swallow my come... Christ. That blows my goddamn mind. That it excites you... that it makes ya wanna get down on your knees. Jesus. Do you have any fuckin' idea what that does to me?"

"I want you inside me in every way. My mouth. My body. My heart. I want all of you."

"God!" His hands were rougher now, holding her against his hips, pulling her down into him. Her hands wormed into the neck of his shirt, desperate to touch his bare skin.

"It was so hot for me, sugar. So good, watching you. You came so hard. So much. It made my mouth water. What were you thinking of?"

"It ain't pretty."

"I don't care. Tell me."

"I was thinkin' how it would be if I hadn't fucked up- if I hadn't frozen up. How it would have been if you wanted to touch me and wanted me to touch you. How that mornin' would have been after a night of hard lovin'."

"Yes, sugar. More..."

"Hard and deep in the shower. Poundin' you against the wall until we both came, until you were so fulla me that it ran down your legs, darlin'."

"Oh, God!"

"You on your knees after, cleanin' me... and then me on mine and my mouth all over you..." He felt her shudder against him. "Throwin' you in bed after, all pink and boneless. Knees up high, lettin' me in real deep. Pullin' out when I got close. I wanna see it spurt on your belly. Rub it in that fuckin' tattoo of yours. Jesus, I love that. And then I wanna make you call out my name."

"I want that. I want your come all over me. Inside me. Logan, please..." He pushed her back enough for her to reach between them and open his pants. He dug his wallet from his jeans and tossed it on the seat next to them.

He pulled at her tights impatiently. "Take these off."

"No. Just cut them..." She gathered up the fabric of her skirt to give him access. That was so much like how it could have been once upon a time that his hand shook as he reached for her.

"Christ! C'mere..." He put a hand on her hip to steady her and let a claw out a little on his other hand. "Don't move." Pulling the stretchy fabric away from her skin, he cut generously, retracting the blade and swiftly turning his hand over. His fingers slid inside the opening and cupped her slippery, naked flesh. The scent overwhelmed him and he leaned in and bit her, hard.

She gasped, digging her fingers into the seat behind him. "Logan!"

Satisfaction burned through him at the sound of his name on her lips. God, he'd dreamed of hearing her say it like _that_ for so long. Withdrawing his fingers, he grasped the base of his cock and pushed upwards, teasing the head through her wet folds. She jumped as it flicked over her most sensitive spot and groaned a little as he rubbed it back and forth over her opening, using just the blunt tip to stretch her a little with each pass until she was whimpering.

He stopped her when she tried to sink down on it as he centered it just right. The urge to shove her down on him was strong, nearly overwhelming; his senses were telling him his woman was fertile, ripe and ready. An inner mantra seemed to beat in time with the blood pounding in his distended flesh, the same message hammering in his head and between his legs; the male imperative. _In-In-In_.

"Condom," he growled.

It was his tone and not the word that initially penetrated her pleasure-soaked brain. "It's fine..."

He let his erection go and covered her with his palm. "It ain't a good time for you to go bareback, darlin'."

"Sugar, we heal. You can't give me anything."

She smelled too good. He couldn't keep from pushing a thick finger inside. Her thighs quivered and she gasped softly.

"I could still give you a baby."

"Oh." Her hands found his face, cupping his strong jaw. "It's fine. We're safe. You don't have to worry. Really."

"You smell so fuckin' good. Fertile and ready for it. Christ. I'm not sure how much longer I can fight that scent, baby." He pulled out the strip of three condoms and left them by her knee. She could decide. "You smell so good," he repeated. A few more deep breaths of her smelling like that, poised over him ready and wanting and he wouldn't give a fuck about anything other than being inside her. The Wolverine was loud in his head, howling at him to push inside and plant his seed deep. Her mouth was telling him one thing and his senses another. It was madness.

"I'm good. Protected. An IUD." Hormones didn't work for her. Not with the healing.

_An IUD? She had something foreign in her?_

He growled at that.

"No babies right now, sugar. Just pleasure... just love..."

_Right now?_

The growl became a snarl at the idea of her heavy with his child. It was too good. Too much.

He could barely process that when she pulled away his restraining hand and sank down on him slowly.

Neither of them closed their eyes. They had been waiting for this moment for too long to miss a single measure of it. The slow downward slide was exquisite.

His hand found hers, palm to palm. He laced their fingers together, feeling her flutter around him as her petite body worked to accept the thick intrusion. Her eyes filled, first with joy so profound it stole his breath and then with tears as emotion overwhelmed her.

He kissed the tears from the corners of her lashes as she had once done to him that night by the lily pond; the sense of coming full circle was deeply moving.

"I love you." Her words were soft and full of wonder.

Logan nodded, unable to get anything out past the lump in his throat.

Home. He was finally home.

He kissed her instead; a kiss of passion and longing and years of heartbreak. And then he smiled and pushed her down the final measure as he thrust up under her until she had all of him.

Her eyes widened and she gasped as he began to move.

"God. Oh, God... I can feel you..."

His eyebrow rose slightly.

"Your skin, sugar... you're so warm... oh, God!" Her free hand tightened on his shoulder. "I've never done this without a condom." Her breath was beginning to come in shallow pants. "You feel so good. So good inside, Logan." Her head tilted back, baring her throat to him.

He understood what she meant. He hadn't done this without a condom since his wife died. Half a decade of years earned the hard way. The journey from that agony to this bliss was shattering. He felt it down to his bones.

She was so hot inside, small and tight. It took a few good, solid thrusts to really open her up, until he could slide all the way in without resistance. The slippery drag made his blood burn. That he could coax such a response from her humbled him and excited him in turn.

Her small body fit him perfectly, as if she'd been divinely hewn just for him. Her breasts filled his hands. He fit snugly inside her, almost too much, but not quite. Her love enveloped him. He could feel it building, along with the pleasure, warm spires that twisted deep. He planted his boots and used his back for leverage as he set a driving rhythm that began to falter all too quickly.

The condensation on the windows began to coalesce into drops that trickled slowly down the cold glass. Sweat moistened their clothes as they strained together toward release. He licked the salt from her skin, his mouth rough and needy on her breasts and neck.

Her mouth was just as busy. She could taste soap and tobacco and the sharp tang of the outdoors that always clung to him. Leather and smoke and sweat; a potent cocktail that made her head spin and her body loose. The drag of his rough stubble under her tongue drew a groan of pleasure from her. She bit his neck, nipping at his chin and mouth as they skated closer to the edge. So good. So close. She licked the sweat from him, wanting to take as much as she could of him inside herself.

Logan let go of her hand to grab her hips, pulling her down into his thrusts. How could invulnerability be so soft? Her body was strong and lithe and yet yielded so easy to his rough intrusion. Harder and faster. More intense. A fluttering of muscles around heaving flesh. Shallow pants of moist, hot air as they shared space, and breath, and need stripped bare.

He was still learning her intimate rhythms, her little tells. The flexing of her fingers and the soft gasp that told him she was close. He barely hung on. The crude wet slap of slick skin in counterpoint to the rasp of clothing and the rocking of the truck inflamed all his senses.

So close. Just a little more now. Hands knotted at the small of her back and a rough, deep thrust and she was there. Her mouth opened. Her eyes opened, verdant green as wild as he'd ever seen them.

"I love you." It was a gasp.

He thrust again, teeth gritted. In a place beyond words.

"I love you." A benediction from her lips.

Another thrust, harder this time.

"I love you." Her voice broke.

The soft repeated admission wrecked his control like no crude profanity ever could.

"Love you." Her voice was almost gone now and she was weeping softly even as her body shuddered and clenched around him.

The world contracted until there was nothing but the two of them straining together in love, frozen in time for a handful of radiant moments, and then it suddenly expanded again, a tape spooling forward in double time.

Logan growled his orgasm into her neck. One more hard thrust. He shoved her hips down and held her still as he moved under her. No rhythm now, just the demands of his big body as it shuddered into hers. Sweat trickled. Fire licked up his spine, consuming him in a sear of white that left him shaking and spent.

She could feel him under her, inside her. A deep pulsing and then a scalding rush of wet heat. The movement became more fluid, the slide easier as the gush of hot semen eased his last jerky movements.

That she could feel it was startling. A wholly new experience. She gasped softly in wonder as she felt him go slack under her.

"I can feel it..." He could hear the awe in her voice. "I can feel you... feel your life in me..." Hot and slick and indescribably intimate. Her trembling arms gave out and she collapsed against his chest.

He smiled into her hair and barely restrained the urge to pump his fist into the air in triumph. He was the only one. The only one to ever have her like this. And she'd chosen _him_.

"Me too, darlin'. Feels real good."

She'd taken all of him. Every last drop. She hadn't broken. She wasn't too young. He hadn't hurt her or taken anything from her. Instead, they'd made something beautiful together. She had loved him stroke for stroke. Met him as an equal.

He pressed his forehead to hers and smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Home," he said softly.

"What?" Everything was still a little spinny.

"I'm home."

"You sure are," she whispered back, her heart in her throat.

The world returned by slow degrees. The wind outside the truck. The slowing of frantic hearts. Her soft gasp as he gently uncoupled from her and slid out. They were both disheveled, hair mussed, clothing in disarray; sweaty and slick and wet, with pink faces and smiling eyes. He moved to use the tail of his shirt to wipe at the wetness and she stopped him.

"No cleaning up, sugar." Her eyes flashed, green and wild. "I want me all over you."

A rumbling growl of approval was out before he could stop it.

Soft hands put each other back together, smoothing down their hair and tugging their clothes back into place.

Laughing, they rolled down the windows to clear the condensation and rolled them back up again just as quickly, leaving a small crack. It was freezing. Logan started the truck and pulled his flannel down over his hand to swipe at the windshield. It was too foggy to see. Marie leaned up to help and her eyes widened as she sat back down in a hurry.

Logan paused from clearing the window and looked over at her, brow raised. "What?"

"Oh my God!" She squirmed on the seat. He could see the dark wet spots on her skirt and smiled. "Lake Logan over here!" She was flushing as she said it, but her eyes were dancing. Marie reached for the hem of her skirt to wipe it away and he stopped her with a grin.

"Leave it. I want me all over you too."

"I like it," she whispered softly, leaning her head against his shoulder as he pulled her into his side.

"Good."

He thought again she must have been made just for him. That maybe all the shit he'd been through had been worth it if he'd earned a shot at something this damned good.

Logan pulled out a cigar and lit it, waiting for the truck to warm up. Marie breathed in the sweet, rich scent and felt her body relax into his.

After a few minutes, he put the truck in drive and his hands high on the wheel.

Marie smiled, remembering the first time she'd seen his hands there and the question she'd asked.

"Wow."

"What?"

"Seeing your hands there. It feels like we've come full circle. Like we finally found what that spark promised us so long ago."

He looked over at her and nodded. He'd never seen her look so soft.

"I love ya, kid."

She knew.

"Back atcha, sugar."

"I was thinkin' we should kick off a little early tonight. Get some food. Hole up somewhere nice. Grab a shower." His eyes were warm. "Sound good?"

"You want some company in that shower?"

He chuckled. "Wouldn't have it any other way, baby."

"I seem to remember something about my tattoo after the shower..."

"You wanna?"

"I wanna."

They hit the road.

And the Man in Black sang on.

* * *

Up next: **The Friends**. Eventually the new lovers come up for air. The rest of the world intrudes. The Wolverine isn't quite ready to share. Jubilee's phone makes another appearance...


	29. The Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, yeah. Remember at the beginning when I said this story was the most mature I'd ever written? Y'all might wanna keep that in mind for the next (ahem - several) chapters... ;)

It was three days before they came up for air.

They did exactly what you'd imagine two super-healers who'd been chasing after each other for a decade would do. And they did a lot of it.

Marie was complaining. Loudly.

"Get away from me! I need food. Real food that doesn't drive up on four wheels." She giggled when Logan grabbed for her. "No Chinese. No pizza. I need veggies. And dark chocolate. Lots and lots of it." She looked thoughtful as she hunted through her pack for her charger. Her phone was completely dead. She hadn't touched it in days. "You know, if they had a place that delivered cheesecakes, I might never leave this room."

She sounded like she meant it.

He rolled his eyes.

"I needa steak. Rare. Bloody. And somethin' fried. Onions. Potatoes. I don't fuckin' care as long as there's a lot of it. And beer. By the pitcher. I'm dehydrated." His eyes were dancing.

"I'm not surprised. There's probably a gallon of you in that bed, sugar."

He kissed her, brushing a thumb over her wet lip suggestively.

"Half a gallon."

She blushed scarlet.

He chuckled.

Her stomach growled.

She giggled, grabbing for his buckle and letting her hand slide lower. "I can't exist on _this,"_ she squeezed lightly, "And take-out alone, Logan."

"Get your hands offa me, woman. Unless you wanna go again."

"No! I'm too hungry."

There was a different light in his eyes now.

She didn't move her hands.

"For food? You don't sound so sure, kid."

"I can't help myself. Just once. Then food. I mean it."

"You said that an hour ago."

It was quick and sinfully good. She smoothed down her skirt. He zipped up his pants.

"God, this room smells." She was not wrong. They hadn't let the cleaning lady in either. Just the delivery guy. Sweat and sex and smoke and three days' worth of take-out wrappers.

"Heh. So let's check out and check in to the room next door."

"After dinner."

His smile was positively predatory.

"After dessert."

"Dessert?"

"My favorite. Southern Comfort. Mississippi variety. With honey…" His fingers dipped suggestively.

She giggled and slapped his hand from the hem of her skirt.

They fell out the door, pink-faced and giddy.

**~ooOoo~**

It was dark. He'd woken up alone. It still made him jumpy. He wondered how long it would take before that went away. Months? Years? "Come back to bed, darlin'." Part request, part order. Like he couldn't quite make up his mind.

Her smile was soft.

"I'll just be a minute, sugar."

She was sitting in the dark on the other side of the room. He could see the light of her phone, glowing brightly in the darkness. She was wrapped in his flannel shirt. That made him smile.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Letting Jubes know I'm alive. She's been worried."

"She's been real good to you."

"She has."

"It took a while, but she's grown on me." Marie smiled at that confession. "You know, like cancer."

She threw a pillow at him.

"I'll be there soon."

"Sorry, kid. I'm not ready to share ya yet."

"I get it."

She tapped a little bit longer and then smiled, switching the phone off.

"You good?" He held up the covers, inviting her in.

"Yup." She dropped his shirt at her feet and slipped in next to him. "You?"

"Yeah. Doin' good and better all the time, baby."

**~ooOoo~**

_Merde!_ He hated that little yellow phone of hers.

"Why you disturb dis man's rest with your little phone, _chére_? Me, I be 'up' wit' you most of de night. You want Remy be 'up' again soon, you switch dat off an' let him rest now."

Christ Jesus, he'd earned it. His performance tonight had been impressive. That little firecracker had worked him hard. A man's work. His most favorite kind. She'd been silent, soft sighs and little mews at the end. That's how he knew when it was really good for her.

"Sorry, babes. I wouldn't, except it's Roguey. I've been waiting to hear something."

He pretended indifference but she knew him well. There was hurt in those red-on-black eyes. Jubilee stroked his strong jaw softly and kissed him tenderly. "You're not her good guy, you're mine. No sad panda in my bed."

"S' _my_ bed," he grumbled.

"Not while I'm in it." She kissed him again, touching him softly under the covers. He rolled to his back like a lazy cat in the sun and accepted her adoration with a grin. They were both old pros at manipulating people. He knew what she was doing and was perfectly content to let her do it _—_ as she well knew. She withdrew her hand. "It won't be long. You know I've been worried."

Jubilee squinted in the dark, her eyes not yet used to the bright display. Remy hid his eyes under his arm.

"You _should_ be worried, ma petite. Once he finds out what you did…"

"Hush."

"He gonna cut you into itty bitty chunks. Gator bait."

"You're not gonna save me?"

"Not dis ol' t'ief."

"Thanks a lot."

"Me, I watch from here with a drink in my hand. Especially if you wear the leather. You the hero of dis story, lover. You don't need savin'."

"I…" She stopped and blushed. She never blushed. "Thanks."

He nodded. "Dat girl… She's not one to hurt herself. Him, maybe. You, maybe. Remy, always." He frowned. There was an old bruise there. "But never herself. Dat girl be a lion, _chére_. Wild and fierce. When they stop lovin' and start talkin', they'll put two and two together and you be busted an' in a world of hurt."

"Stop. I know she'd never hurt herself. They just needed a little push. Otherwise I woulda been old Granny Juju by the time they got around to making up and popping out some ankle-biters. I wanna be cool Aunty Jubes who wears fierce shoes, takes them shopping for inappropriate clothes, obnoxious toys and overpriced coffee. I want them to know me while I can still rock the black leather uniform."

"You rock dis man's world in it, sure enough."

That's how their game tonight had started. Her in the uniform and him tied naked to a cane chair. He did like to indulge her little games. He'd won in the end, but the battle had been long and glorious. She was a wicked woman. _Wicked_. And he was the luckiest of bastards.

He put his hand on her bare breast and smiled as she slapped at him.

"No."

"Yes, Mistress Jubilee," he purred silkily, giving her dark nipple one last teasing tweak before slipping back to his side of the bed.

She turned back to her phone and the message from Rogue.

**Juju- On the road with L. Don't wait up. ;) Sorry to wake you and R. It's the first time we've come up for air. XOXO**

She grinned and tapped a message straight back.

**Chica! He's fine. Purring like a big cat. Round two imminent if he plays his cards right. See what I did there? :P I hope it was everything you thought it would be.**

Her reply was quick and made Jubilee smile.

**Better. OMFG. Even with the healing, I might never walk right again.**

Jubilee didn't share that with Remy.

**Happily Ever After?**

Rogue's reply took longer that time.

**No. Hopefully ever after. For now.**

Jubilee's fingers flew.

**I'll take that. For a hopeless pair like you two, that's like being struck by lightning, answering the $64,000 question, beating R at cards, and acing a Summers fucking bio final. You should buy a lotto ticket. And a bag of frozen peas for your** _**cocotte** _ **.**

Halfway across the continent, she could picture Rogue gasping at the crude Cajun word. She knew what it meant. Remy had a deliciously filthy mouth in bed.

**Dirty girl. You kiss R with that mouth?**

Another lightning fast reply.

**Repeatedly. Don't tell, but I think I'm falling in love. And not just with his dick.**

It was a good feeling, sharing that. Like how they used to whisper together in their room at night with Kitty so long ago. Back when they were all little girls. It made her a little nostalgic. That eased as she looked at the man in her bed. Life was hard and she was thankful for what she had now. She could tell that Rogue was feeling the same thing.

**Crap! My giggling woke L. You in love? Best. News. Ever! Tell him! I need all the deets. Call you soonish. Got to go before something gets clawed.**

**PS I know what you did.**

**And thanks.**

**Love you.**

Jubilee smiled into the darkness.

**Always. That's what family does.**

**PS Jimmy Choo. Size 5.5**

**hint.hint.**

**Will be waiting for you to come out of hibernation with fuzzy.**

**XXxx**

Jubilee switched off her phone and slid back down next Remy.

"What's dat smile for?"

"It's for them. She's in love." Her lips found his jaw. "And so am I."

Remy sucked in a sharp breath. He'd known for a while now, but he never thought she'd say the words. And certainly not first. She was like a shadow that accessorized with sunlight to keep from being seen. Everything played so close to the vest. Always a game with her. She almost never let the wall down.

"Ej t'aime." He kissed her back.

No walls for either of them tonight.

  **~ooOoo~**  


Two in the afternoon.

No guilt at all about still being in bed.

Early morning shower sex and then hours of talking, leisurely touching, and napping in the bright, cheery sunshine.

Logan felt the touch of her small hand curl under the back of his thigh. His legs moved apart slightly in silent invitation. Marie ran the soft pad of her middle finger from the cleft between his legs, up over his heavy scrotum to the pink, exposed tip of his penis, lifting her head from his thigh to watch his sensitive skin move under her fingertips. She could see minute shifts; the soft, full pouch draw up, his testicles rise and settle independently. Just the smallest motion. She smiled, cupping the responsive flesh gently. Even the warmth of her breath caused little rippling movements.

"I can see why you hate to be hit here."

He was sprawled on his back, arm under his head, looking down at her.

"Mmph."

A grunt. Typical.

"It's so…." Delicate? Tender? Vulnerable? All of those seemed not quite right. Like they didn't quite capture the magnitude of what she was trying to express to him. They implied weakness, too. There was none. Words failed her. The look in her eyes didn't.

"Yeah, it is."

"It's more than hurt, isn't it?" It was something more insidious than pain to be hit there. More than an affront to his maleness. It was indecent to suffer a violent blow to so private a place. Intrusive. Ugly. A violation. It sickened her.

"Yes."

"That time in the bar… when I kneed you here. I'm so sorry."

Another grunt.

"I deserved it."

"Look at me."

He did.

"I shouldn't have done that. It was wrong and I'm telling you now that no matter how mad I get, how pissed I am at you… I might try to kick your ass, in fact you can probably count on that, but I promise I'm never going to hurt you again here. Never." The touch was soft. Her eyes were fierce.

He said nothing, but his gaze was intense.

Giving his scrotum one last caress, she took his soft penis in her hand and squeezed gently, smiling at the light tickle of pubic hair against her skin. It was a lover's touch. Not sexual yet, but startlingly intimate. There was a different sort of pleasure feeling him like this, more intimate in a way; the skin loose, the flesh elastic, spongy.

"So soft. Smooth. Your skin is like silk here." She turned to press a kiss to his hairy thigh. "I love the way you feel here, especially like this."

"More."

Her fingers squeezed again. He wasn't quite as soft this time. Still flaccid, but a little firmer now.

"It's the only time I can fit it all in my mouth." She felt him twitch against her palm. "That does something for you?"

He snorted softly.

"Good. It does something for me too." He wasn't quite so soft now. Half hard; plump on the way to insistent. Every beat of his powerful heart pushed more blood into the thick flesh. "I love feeling you grow hard on my tongue, feeling you fill my mouth until it's finally too much and I have to pull back or choke."

"Mmm…."

"I love you here so much." The touch had changed. Sexual now. But light. A stroking caress. "After your face, it's the first place I want to look when you're naked."

His eyebrow went up.

"Even more than your chest… and it's a world class chest, sugar. Even more than that magnificent ass."

He chuckled.

"I love your hair here, too. Dark and wild. Thick. I love how it feels against my skin. Sometimes a tickle. Sometimes rough when you go really hard."

"Y'like that. A really good, hard fuck," he affirmed, his voice low and husky now.

"I do."

"Hmph." A masculine grunt of approval.

"I love the way you smell here. It makes me wet. It makes my mouth water," she whispered. He was standing up for her now, fully engorged. Throbbing. A wet glisten at the tip.

She was getting to him.

"I love how thick you are. You fill me up. I love that it hurts a little every time." He opened his mouth but she stopped him with a touch. "Just a little. Just for a few seconds. It makes every time feel like the first time."

"Jesus." His belly tightened at the compliment. What man doesn't like to hear that from his woman? He was no different. "A little more, baby…." He bucked into her hand.

Her grip tightened; the touch a little more firm now as he slid through her fist.

"I love the way you taste, too." She was blushing now but she hadn't looked away.

He made a low sound in his throat.

He liked that.

A lot.

"I love watching, too. Like that morning in the shower." She found his hand and guided it between his legs. It wrapped around the thick base almost instinctively. He was naturally sensual. A slow pull and a soft sigh of pleasure. "Show me... please..."

There was a question in his eyes now.

"Show me what you like. How you touch yourself when you're alone."

"Y'want that?"

"I need it. I need to know all of you."

"You'll do it for me later?" It wasn't a question. Not really. He would know her that way, too.

"Yes. Anything you want."

A full growl now and a flash of gold in his eyes.

_Anything?_

She nodded.

He did exactly what she asked, sparing nothing. Every little detail exposed. Every vulnerability. One hand on himself. The other twined with hers, palm to palm. A lifeline. It was intimate. Powerful. When he was close, she took him into her mouth and sucked. He called out her name. Trembling. A hand in her hair. She left her mouth on him, kissing and whispering love words until he was ready again. Just her mouth now. No hands. The second time was more intense. No words that time. Only a hoarse groan, his body under hers, taut like a bow.

By then, she was trembling.

Red lips, wet, slightly swollen. Smiling at him as he pulled her up and kissed her. Whispering in her ear all the things he loved about her body. By the time he was done, he was hard again. His mouth found her ear. "Again? I can go as many times as you want. As many as you need."

Words from another night that had ended much differently. She wanted to address all the old hurts. Fix them one by one. She had years of pain to make up for. Not to erase it. To heal it. To heal them both.

She nodded.

"How, darlin'?"

A small hand on his chest pushing him back on the bed in answer. Moving to straddle him. It was too easy to be overwhelmed by his lovemaking when he was on top. Too easy to lose herself and just let it be something he did to her instead of something they did together. He gave himself over to it; let her ride him, but he was far from passive. He made her come twice before he drew close. She slipped down again. He tried to stop her but she shook off his restraining hand.

"Let me."

Her mouth on him again in those final moments. The silk of her hair in his hand. That time he shouted. The sight of his fist clenched in the crisp white sheets would be burned into her mind for as long as she lived.

He pulled her up, after; tucking her under his chin. Folding her body into his. Tender touches. Soft whispers now.

"Why'd you do that, baby?"

"To taste us together."

"You don't have to." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "It's a clean slate. There's nothin' you gotta make up to me." The idea of it made him uneasy. He didn't want that.

"It's not that. Not at all. I do it because I like it. I do it for me. Sometimes for us. Sometimes for you. Mostly for me. I told you. I'm… different." She could tell he was not convinced. "Is that how you feel about your mouth on me? That it's a have-to and not a want-to?"

"That's a privilege."

"There's your answer then."

There was no question in his mind.

She had to have been. Made just for him. And they'd paid for this moment with years of misery, with blood and pain and heartache.

They were finally in step.

It was glorious.

  **~ooOoo~**  


They'd been playing all day. First with words. Then with cards.

She was sitting at the table, cards in hand. He was throwing a log on the fire; the only decent amenity in the shabby little cabin they'd rented for the night.

His hand was on the thick mantle. Nice slab of cedar. A beer was at his lips and an indulgent smile touched his mouth. She was losing.

"Suck me."

Two sets of eyes widened slightly. It was a toss-up who was more surprised that raw desire was voiced aloud.

But it was out there. No going back now.

She hooked a leg over the arm of the chair, exposing herself.

"Now, Wolverine."

The beer dropped from his fingers, draining into the carpet. Four strides. He was on his knees.

His eyes said he was going to enjoy retribution.

His mouth said nothing.

It was busy.

Hers smiled.

* * *

Up next: **The Lovers**. All of him and all of her. That was what she'd wanted. Well, not all of it was pretty or nice. Some of it was downright ugly. The shift from friends to lovers isn't without a few bumps in road...

(And for those of you who wondered, no the French is not misspelled. It's Cajun French which is a wee bit different from the garden variety patois.)


	30. The Lovers

Logan had been drinking steadily for the last hour. Beer first and then tequila. Marie wondered about that but didn't ask. His mood told her he wouldn't answer even if she did.

They'd stopped early today. Wal-Mart first for supplies. Clothes for her. Toiletries. Beer. Blankets. Food. Then the liquor store. Eight assorted bottles.

She'd wondered if he was stocking up or planning a bender.

They'd chosen a different rental cabin this time. It was almost too nice. Granite and stainless in the kitchen. Decadent marble bath. Glossy maple floors. He hadn't said anything beyond "Yuppie" when they walked in and "Pizza" when she asked what he wanted to order in for dinner.

Marie was tired. It had been hours of hard driving today. Icy roads. Heavy, wet snow. Today was the first day they had needed the chains. It was still November but it felt like January. She was in bed, lazing. Naked. Wrapped in the new blanket they had bought because neither of them could stand the scent of motel bedding. Housekeeping washed the sheets but never the comforters. It was crumpled up on the floor. They wouldn't need it tonight. They had the blankets and Logan had built up the fire.

He joined her later, still silent. Their lovemaking was intense. Not at all rough but not gentle either. He had an edge tonight. And he tasted like tequila when she kissed him.

Logan sunk in deep and didn't wait for her to adjust before he pulled out and thrust in again. Marie gasped softly.

"I hate that you let him fuck you," he said. She knew instantly who he meant even before he growled the rest. "That he was _first_."

"I hate that you picked Jean over me."

They were both still wounded.

All of him and all of her. That was what she'd wanted. Well, not all of it was pretty or nice. Some of it was downright ugly.

He thrust harder.

"You were a kid."

"So? Be mad at yourself. It could have been you. I wanted it to be you. That was your choice."

This time he put the weight of his metal-laced body behind the thrust and she winced.

"I wanted to be first."

His eyes were wild. Hazel though, not golden. He was completely present. But there was something there, something that he was holding back.

"Say what you mean."

"I wanted to be the one to make you bleed."

"So do it."

That shocked him into stillness.

"I hate him."

"I hate that Jean made you bleed."

She had the memories of the medlab when Jean's nails made his body bleed. Of the night by the Blackbird when she made his heart bleed. Of Alcatraz. His soul was still bleeding from that.

"Shut up."

"I hate that she did and you still chose her first."

"Christ."

The next thrust was less punishing.

"You said he made you come twice." The following thrust was not. "Tell me how."

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" She was emotional now. Tears and anger.

"Because until I know, everythin' I imagine will be worse than the truth. Then I'll only have two things to be pissed about instead of a thousand."

That actually made sense. He would picture everything until she narrowed his vision. That was just how his mind worked. He'd never been good at letting things go. He was a man who'd elevated torturing himself into an art form. She was strong enough to give this to him now, but she wondered if it was really the best thing for either of them. But then again, maybe it was. Maybe it was time they stopped running from all of it.

Marie turned her face away because she couldn't look at him and say the words.

"His mouth first."

A snarl rose in his chest. His fist clenched with violent, bloody thoughts about what he'd like to do to Scott's face.

He said, "More." She heard: _I hate his fuckin' guts._

"Through my tights. I didn't really like it at first. I was too embarrassed but—"

"But?"

But he was good at it. Really good. Even drunk.

"But it was a _mouth_. I was dying to be touched. The sensation alone—"

Logan kissed her because he couldn't stand to hear the rest. He knew exactly what she meant. He didn't remember his own first time, but he remembered the first time after he came-to in the snow with the claws in his hands. The first time it was a woman's mouth and not his own fist. Christ, he still remembered how fucking _good_ that had been. Every last detail. He'd bet money it was the same for her.

"And the second time?"

Another thrust. Angry, not punishing now.

"His hand."

"You didn't come when he was inside you?"

His rhythm faltered. She'd surprised him again.

"No. Christ, Logan! It was my first time. It hurt too much. And I was really drunk. All that heaving on a stomach full of Patron?" In that moment she understood why it had been tequila for him tonight. "I threw up after."

"How?"

"The normal way. In the bathroom."

"No. The sex."

She understood now. He was asking about the logistics.

"Logan—"

"Tell. Me." A hard thrust to punctuate each word.

"He wore pajama bottoms and a condom. And a shirt," she added. A tight, long-sleeved t-shirt. He'd had a beautiful body. She'd wanted to see it. To touch it. When he'd drawn himself out through the gap, she had.

"You wore tights?"

"No. I was naked."

Scott had been very emphatic about that. Even lost in his own pain, he'd been a generous lover. Tender. Thorough.

Logan was snarling now. If it had been anyone else, she'd have been terrified. Even so, she could stop this at any moment; with her skin, with her strength, with Erik's gift.

"I think he was sort of hoping I'd kill him."

"Wish you fuckin' had," he muttered into her hair.

"No you don't." She knew he didn't want that for her. Not really.

"You're right. I wish _I_ fuckin' had."

His eyes were on fire now.

She didn't argue.

He pulled back abruptly; pulled out too quickly for it to be anything close to consideration and put his head on her breastbone. He used the corner of the sheet to wipe away all the wetness from between her legs.

"Sugar?"

"Put your tights on, baby."

"Why?"

"You know why," he said quietly.

It only took a minute. He put on a shirt and rolled on a condom. Claws out to cut a hole in her tights. The pain in his hand grounded him.

He moved over her, pulling on his gloves.

She knew what he wanted.

"Is it on?"

She nodded, a little buzzed by the electric tingle of her skin flipping on. It felt good to let go. She usually came harder this way when no part of her was distracted by maintaining control. He hadn't asked her about that yet but she knew he would eventually.

"Be careful."

His face was hard, but the curt nod reassured her just enough to keep her from stopping him.

"Knees up high."

He wanted to go deep.

She let him, gasping as he pushed inside, forgetting that he'd wiped away her wetness a moment ago. The condom was dry. It burned. So deep. She felt every bit of him. It was deliberate.

A breaking.

It was over very quickly. Nothing that intense could be sustained for long. Two voices raised in passion. Her nails in his back. Gloved fingers held on tight. He hated that he couldn't kiss her. High on the danger. Sometimes too close. He felt the tingle of her skin at the base of his cock when he shoved in too deep.

It made it better.

Wilder.

They were wrecked after. Tears on their faces. Her skin off. The gloves off. Still half-dressed, holding each other close. Pink streaks on the condom. Spotting on the sheets. She turned off the healing. She wanted to feel it. To feel like his.

"Sorry."

But he wasn't. Not really.

The fire had burned low. He curled around her back, holding her tenderly now.

"I just - I needed to burn out that ghost, baby."

"I know."

"Do you?" Did she really? He had to if he was ever going to move forward.

"Is that it?" She knew there was one more question he would want answered but it was one he'd never ask. Which one of them was bigger?

He hesitated and then sighed. "Yeah."

"It's you," she said softly.

"What is?"

"The answer to the question you won't ask. It's you." It wasn't exactly a lie. Logan was thicker. Scott was longer. She'd tried to take it all and failed. It had hurt. She'd bled. And for all of Jean's faults, Marie was grateful to her that she'd kept that piece of information – that Scott Summers was packing serious heat – to herself.

She felt the last of the tension drain out of him at that.

"I dunno what you're talkin' about, kid."

She didn't press.

They fell quiet for a while. It was Logan who broke the silence.

"You mad at me?"

"No. But if there's anything else you need to know, ask now. I'm never going to talk about it again after tonight."

"I'm done."

He really, really was.

"Good." Her hand found his. He laced their fingers together. "This is our time now. Let the past go."

"I'm tryin'."

"Try harder."

She felt his lips on the back of her neck. A smile.

"Yes, ma'am."

**~ooOoo~**

They'd barely been driving an hour. It was too early to stop. Her finger was still on the map as they drifted to the shoulder. Laughlin City under her fingertip, he noted. Hundreds of kilometers away. But not far from her thoughts.

Or his.

He had a cigar in his fingers.

Her mouth was red. He'd had coffee with breakfast. She'd had a cherry Slurpee.

"Suck me."

The map fell from her fingers.

"Here?"

It was broad daylight. They weren't even pulled into the trees. The road was empty but anyone passing by could see. The windows of the truck weren't even tinted.

"Here."

He widened his legs a little and leaned against the door.

"Now, kid."

He didn't wait for her. A firm, warm hand on the back of her neck let her know he wasn't playing.

She reached for him.

"Keep the gloves on."

Those were the last words he said.

Her mouth was redder after.

He was still holding the cigar, only now there was no tension in him. None at all. He was boneless. Face impassive. Eyes smiling. Driving a little slower than usual. He didn't notice. He was still recovering. It made her want to laugh but she didn't. Logan was a proud man.

Marie hid a smile as she realized he was rewriting the past too. It wasn't just her. He was changing things. Reliving things, even if they were only ever in his head.

This was a big one.

He still didn't talk about picking her up on that snowy road thirteen years ago.

Now she knew why.

**~ooOoo~**

A different small rental cabin this time. Hardly more than a shoddily remodeled fishing shack. Tiny. Rustic. Right on the lake, surrounded by tall pines and majestic peaks. Years later when they talked about this trip, they would both be surprised to find out it had been the standout favorite of all the places they'd stayed.

They were sitting on the floor in front of the fire, legs crossed like in elementary school. She was in his lap, facing him, legs wrapped around his hips. They had just finished making love. He was still deep inside her and the sweat was still drying on their skin.

He ran a thumb over the small tattoo on her arm, two swallows.

"Tell me about this."

At first he had thought they were black until he'd studied them in the brilliant afternoon sun. They were not black. One was a dark gray. The other, a shade smaller, was a deep green. In a way, they reminded of him of the cranes he carried folded in the pocket over his heart.

She sighed.

"It's… it's kind of a lot."

"I'm ready."

"I did it after…." He knew. It was after she'd tried to take her life. "After I'd put myself back together with Hank's help… I was healing. Getting stronger. The swallows were in my mind a lot, for a long time, even before I hurt myself. The idea of them. What they stand for. It was something that helped me get better after. It just seemed right to put it on the outside. It had been on the inside for so long."

"What does it mean?" He shifted to look at it and she felt him throb in her. A trickle of semen flowed from her into his thick pubic hair and he hummed contentedly. He particularly liked the raw, messy side of sex that most people shied away from.

"There are a several traditional meanings. All of them apply. Freedom. The return home after a struggle. A hardship survived. A victory gained."

"Those are all good things."

"For me it's love and loyalty. The swallow is a bird that chooses a mate for life." She put his thumb on the green one. "This one is Marie." She moved it to the gray one. "This one is Logan."

For a minute he couldn't say anything.

"God." His eyes burned. He was still inside her. That was all that kept the world from slipping away entirely. Logan was profoundly moved.

"Always together. It was a wish. A prayer. An apology for that night."

"Baby…"

"If you're soft with me now I'm going to fall apart." Her tears were already beginning to fall.

"S'okay, darlin'. I'll be here to put you back together again."

She cried harder. "What about you?"

His eyes were wet now too.

"Kid, you've been holdin' me together since before the lily pond. I was just too fuckin' scared to tell ya."

She opened her mouth to say something. He kissed her instead and began moving under her rhythmically, with purpose. He couldn't talk about this. Not anymore. Not with words.

But he could show her.

She'd been imprinted on his skin just like that beautiful tattoo since the moment she'd first climbed into his truck.

* * *

Up next: **The Deep**. A step back in time. Marie asked to see him fight. This time, she's ready to be what the King of the Cage needs when the final bell rings...


	31. The Deep

"Hey, what's with you, sugar?"

Their spartan little motel room didn't even have a table and chairs. They were sitting on the bed, a pizza between them. Logan had hardly touched it, and that was strange. On a good night, he could eat an extra-large by himself.

He was distracted.

Marie wondered if it was because they hadn't had sex yet today. He'd woken her early, wanting to put some miles behind them today. He'd never really done that before either, been eager to get to somewhere. They'd just been wandering as the spirit moved them. What was so special about Thunder Bay?

"Huh?"

"You don't like the pizza?"

He shook his head.

"It ain't that."

"Then what is it?" She was on her third piece already. It was hard to go wrong with pepperoni and bacon.

"I don't liketa eat heavy if I might be fightin' later," he admitted quietly. Her eyes widened and he watched her face carefully for her reaction. He felt a little unsure springing this on her, but she had asked to see him fight sometime along their trip west. He thought now might be a good time. "Bein' hungry makes me meaner." While that was true, no man, even one who healed, liked to take a hard punch on a full belly.

That got a giggle out of her.

"There's a fight tonight?"

Things were clicking into place for her now.

Her scent changed and that caught his attention. She was definitely interested.

"Yeah. Gonna be a good one tonight up the road near Silver Falls. But I dunno how you feel about it. I dunno if you wanna." He shrugged. "You said you did, but some things are better left a fantasy, you know?" It needed to be her choice.

Her eyes were on him; a different look than he'd seen before. Wilder.

"I wanna. I don't think this is one of those things." He shook off the suggestive creep of her fingers up his bicep.

"This ain't a game, kid. That's- that's his territory. I sorta just check myself at the door, you know? I need that sometimes. He does too." It was better now than it had been in years. The Wolverine hadn't been leashed in weeks. But there was a difference between sharing a consciousness with him and actively letting him out to play. Allowing himself to become lost in that wildness. To revel in it.

Marie put the pizza down and scooted over to him. "Do you want to fight?"

"Yeah. I need to." This time with her had been good, but he'd been dealing with some pretty heavy shit. Opening himself up. Freezing up. Her taking off. The thing about Scott. Jesus. He needed to purge that. "I need to," he repeated softly.

She understood.

"Does he want me there?"

Logan closed his eyes. She could see his throat work as he swallowed. "Yeah. Too much. Too much, baby."

"Then I want to be there."

"I can't control him. Not after he's been fightin' and especially not with you."

"I'm not worried. I'm... curious. Curious and excited and a little nervous."

"Nervous?"

"I'm not sure how I'm gonna feel about some of it. I have conflicting feelings about you fighting."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Part of me, a big part, hates that it hurts you."

That made him feel surprisingly good.

"Pain don't hurt him. He eats it. Feeds off it. Likes it. You don't gotta worry there, okay?" He rubbed her arm lightly.

"I can't help it. That part of me wants to fight like hell to keep everything from hurting you."

He smiled. "And the other part of ya?"

"Likes watchin' you all wild and primal. It makes me feel all wild too. It makes me want to get down on my knees for you, sugar. I can't help it." He growled softly. "I've been dreaming about being fucked by the Wolverine since I was seventeen."

She could tell by his face she'd shocked him. Really shocked him.

"Jesus."

"Too much?"

"Is it the truth?"

"Yes."

"Then it's not too much."

"Good."

"God. Seventeen? Really?" He just couldn't wrap his mind around that.

"Yeah. You- you know I'm a little different there. Does that freak you out?"

"Truth?"

"Yeah."

"It kinda does a little, yeah. He woulda-" He couldn't even finish that thought aloud. He would have torn her up. Scared her. Made her bleed. Not just possessed her; owned her. The power imbalance had been too great. "You didn't have enough miles on ya then to know what you were really gettin' into there."

"I do now."

"I dunno 'bout that. If you just want some primal fantasy; a good, hard, animalistic fuck that's a little wild and rough around the edges, I can give ya that without bringin' him into it."

"Is that what you think I want?"

"Ain't it? Wantin' _that_? With _him_? What else could it be?"

"You really don't know?" She was serious now.

"Help me out a little here, baby."

She took his face in her palm.

"Oh, sugar. It's so much more than that. So deep on so many levels. Even then, even at seventeen, I knew that much. That's what I was starved for. It wasn't just the sex. It was having that experience with you."

So much more?

"Bullshit."

"It's a way for me to feel you, really feel your physical strength, your power and dominance in a way I can't through anything else."

"Ain't that what I just said?"

"A little, maybe. But there's so much more."

He waited.

"I need to feel that from you. I need to feel you all wild and out of control. If you can't give me that, give me all of you, it makes me feel like I can't give you all of me. Not if you're holding pieces of yourself apart from me." She stroked his jaw tenderly. "I need to know that I can make you do that. Just me. Only me. And I need you to know that you can make me do that too."

"Marie-"

"Shh. I need that, Logan. I have- I have a lot of power in me now. It doesn't have an outlet without him. I need the limits only he can give me. I'm built for this. Not just here," she touched her skin. "But here, too." She put his hand on her heart.

"God, baby."

"That you'd trust me enough to let me see that is huge for me."

"Letcha see what? Me actin' like an animal? A beast?"

"No. Letting me see into you. Into your heart. Into those primal places that drive all of us. Sex and possession. I want to surrender to it. To submit. But not in a bad way. Like acceptance. Like _—_ like love. I want to give us both that. It's such an intimate thing, letting me see that. Feeling safe enough to give me that. Giving that wild part of myself to you in return."

She made it almost sound like something good. Something right. How the hell did she do that? He hovered at the edge of the precipice. Believing her? Really buying into that? It was almost too good to be true. He was afraid to reach out and take it. He could barely accept that part of himself. That someone else could do so; that they could even _want_ it, rocked him back.

"Intimate how?"

"Because of what you'd show me if we did that. What I'd learn about you. What I'd learn about myself. It's such an intimate look into your head. What he likes. What turns him on. What he needs. What you really want when it's not about you trying to pleasure me. I want that, Logan. I need it."

"Well, you got that part right. It wouldn't be about you. Not at all."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

She'd shocked him again.

"Ain't it?"

"No."

"I wanna be clear what we're talkin' about here, baby. Not sex. Not fuckin'. Ruttin'. Takin' you because he can. Because he's earned it. Because you're his. That ain't nice. It ain't pretty."

"No, it's not. But it's real. It's good. Pure. It's doesn't have to be soft and romantic to be beautiful."

"Hmph."

"Why are you worried?"

He snorted. "You really gotta ask?"

"You can't hurt me. You can't make me do anything I don't want to do."

"Bullshit. I could rip you apart. Make you bleed."

_Again._

He didn't say it, but they both heard it well enough.

"I can stop you any time I want. With my gift. With Carol's. With Erik's."

"I could hurt you."

"I could hurt you, too."

"I heal."

"So do I."

"Mmph."

Stalemate.

"Animals don't question their instincts, Logan."

"He doesn't."

"You do." He was not an animal, whatever he thought. He was the most human of men.

His jaw clenched but she could see him waver, just for a moment.

"Logan, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, kid. Anythin'."

"Just- just let me get it all out there before you answer, okay?"

He nodded.

"If- if this was the other way around, if we were both hot for it and if you wanted me-"

"If?" he muttered, arching that dark brow at her.

They both smiled.

"If things got wild and - and I pushed you down and mounted you and rode you for my pleasure, touching you how I wanted and when I wanted..." She blushed, but kept going. "If I did that, if you saw me all wild because of you, because of how desperately I wanted you and how much I needed you to feel like you were mine..."

He growled softly.

"If you got to feel every last carnal desire you inspired in me in that unguarded moment, and I let you see all the things I hide from everyone, even myself... if I gave you everything and let you feel me shuddering helplessly against you, coming so hard and just screaming out my pleasure to you and letting you have all of me... trusting that you'd be there to pick up the pieces after. Would that really be so bad? Would you want me to feel ashamed of my need to be that way with you?"

His color was high and his eyes flashed gold at her.

"Hell, no." He pulled her close, unable to keep from touching her in the wake of such impassioned words. He was profoundly moved and deeply aroused. "I want all of that. It sounds real good. So fuckin' good." His hands were shaking. "I wantcha to want it that way."

He sure did.

"I do, sugar. I do. For so long now."

"I wantcha to want _me_ that way."

"I do. I do want all of you. That's all I've ever wanted."

_All of you and all of me._

Christ, she'd been trying to tell him that from the beginning. He just didn't get it until now.

"You understand if you do this, you'll always be his, right? Always," he whispered into her hair. Always could be a long damn time for them both. Maybe forever. "I can't stop it. I can't undo it. I don't even want to."

"And you understand that I'll always be his even if you never touch me again, right?" He sucked in a sharp breath. "I've always been his."

"And mine," he said huskily.

"I am now."

"But not before?"

"No. With him, that was instinctive. It just happened." She kissed his mouth. "I _chose_ you."

He nodded once and touched his forehead to hers.

"All of you and all of me. I get it now."

He broke into a rare, wide smile that crinkled his eyes up at the corner and lit up his whole face.

She smiled back.

Her touch changed, from tender to suggestive.

He caught her hands in his and gently pulled them from his big body.

"Not- not now. Tonight. After." She actually shuddered and he felt a ripple of pure male satisfaction. His woman wanted him. "I wantcha to want it bad, darlin'."

Her eyes glowed.

"Oh, sugar, I'm gonna make you burn..."

**~ooOoo~**

_Deja vu._

She walked out of the motel bathroom and he was transported back in time.

A clingy black top. Sparkly purple scarf. Worn jeans that rode low on her slender hips. A green pea coat that was somewhere between kelly and forest. It didn't have a hood and her boots were nicer this time, but it was close enough to ring his bell good. She looked almost exactly like she had that first night.

It was the fresh face and loose hair that were really getting to him. She looked all of seventeen. Her body was slightly different now; a little leaner with a bit more muscle than before, and she moved differently. She was a confident woman who knew her own power now. He watched her slip that damned butterfly knife into one boot, and her I.D. and cash into her pocket followed by two steel ball bearings the size of gumdrops; an elegant, undetectable weapon. She wet her lips and looked at him; all big wide eyes and that full, pink mouth.

He was so fucked.

He stood rooted to the spot. Staring. It felt just like it had that night. The heat. The hunger. On the surface she still looked like that kid, that girl he knew better than to even think about touching. Except now he could. Now there was no guilt. Just fire and want and the terrifying certainty of what would happen after he put the final challenger on the ground.

She slid over to him and tapped him on the nose lightly with one gloved finger.

"Comin', sugar?"

Coat. Keys. Cigar. Lighter. Wallet.

He followed her out without a single word, eyes on her ass the whole time. It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but he crowded her with his body, pressing her up against the side of the truck and pushing his face into her neck, breathing deeply. Fresh snow and desire. She smelled damned good, but not enough like his scent. Not yet. The lick was long and slow; the flat of his tongue from collarbone to just behind her ear. When she shoved at him, he nipped her sharply, a little rebuke for her insolence, and chuckled into her hair.

She reached for the door handle and he stopped her, covering her hand with his.

"Be sure, kid. I ain't gonna ask again."

A nod.

She turned in his arms, eyes downcast. Her body language deferential but not submissive. Bottom lip caught nervously in her teeth. For one long moment his heart stopped, thinking she'd changed her mind and then he realized she was _playing_. Sweet Jesus, if she amped it up any more he was going to split out of his skin.

"Get in the truck, little girl."

He felt her shudder against him and smiled against her neck. He knew how to make her burn too.

They drove in silence. The sun set, a vermilion sear across the sky. Adele wailed, all sex and smoke and fury.

_The scars of your love, they leave me breathless..._

Marie's voice joined her, that husky honeyed drawl perfectly suited to the angry, bluesy sound.

_Rollin'... in the deep... you had my heart... inside your hand..._

He said nothing, but his hand was strong on hers.

Her boot kept the driving four/four time on the floorboard. She wanted a cigarette. Fucking Carol.

The bar was as much of a dive as the one in Laughlin had been. Wan light lit the dingy exterior, illuminating in the snow in a yellow circle. Moths spiraled, sizzling on the heat of the naked globe.

Logan parked at the far edge of the lot, right up against the trees. When they opened the doors, the cold stole her breath. The tip of his cigar glowed red in the pitchy blackness. It was starting to snow.

His hand, not at her back. On her nape. Thumb stroking lightly as they walked toward the dirty snow in the small sphere of light that lit the entrance to Skinny Dick's.

It was a rough crowd. He parked her at the bar and kissed her hard and deep, hands on her ass so they could all see who she belonged to. It wasn't part of the recreated fantasy, but there was no way in hell he was walking away without staking an irrefutable claim.

Electricity sizzled in the crowd as his name was passed around and stories were told. The Wolverine scented the air, taking in every detail. Potential opponents eyeing him up. Cage bunnies circling when his clothes started coming off. A little smirk at their interest and an eyebrow quirked at _her_ , his mate, to acknowledge it. That amused Marie as much as it pissed her off. Big hands reaching up to grab the tank behind his neck before pulling it off for maximum effect. He knew what his body did to women. Thick, veiny arms with heavy ropes of muscles. A massive hairy chest that narrowed to an impossibly tight, rippled abdomen.

That fucking buckle, advertising. Glinting in the light of the barrel fires burning around the cage and drawing more than one appreciative eye to the thick bulge below. Boots off. Everything about him screamed maleness. Power. Virility. Danger.

He moved like the predator he was. In the cage now with a drink at his lips, back to the door. Arrogant. Cocky.

Her boot heel on the bottom rung of the stool. Her eyes on him, a viridian brand. A gin and tonic in a tall thin glass so it looked like the water she'd had in front of her that night. Every detail, just right.

Almost.

"Sugar...?" She was off the barstool.

His head whipped around. So much for affecting disinterest. He was aware of her every move. Every _breath._

Her hand slipped into her pocket, reforming the steel spheres under her fingertips.

She met him at the door of the cage, her mouth to his ear. "You forgot something, cowboy."

At the old familiar chink, his eyes widened briefly. The sheen of the metal was different, and without the patina of age, but the replica was flawless to the last detail. Each scuff and dent. He bent his head to receive the newly fashioned tags. They carried a weight that had nothing to do with the sliver of metal. Her hands lingered at his throat, drawing a low growl from his chest. She tilted her head back, exposing her neck. Vulnerability. Deference. But not submission. Not yet. Making him want to earn it. To take it.

He very nearly bit her.

Twisting his fist into her hair, he kissed her instead. Not to stake a claim this time. Because he wanted her to watch the fight with the taste of him in her mouth. Her legs were weak when he turned her loose.

"Soon." He snarled the word into her ear.

It was the last human word he uttered.

The fiery glance she threw him over her shoulder as she walked away was the last sharp detail he remembered. The bell rang, brassy and loud. Shouts rose with it. Money changed hands. The first, solid punch. Pain, bright and loud. Sharp. Seductive. It got hazy after that.

The first one went down too fast, his blood too hot. Wanting to show off for her. Wanting her to watch. To _see._ The second was slower, bloodier, like playing with his food. He let the third punish him first, aware the crowd needed to see him take a beating. And because he wanted the blood of the fallen on his skin when he took her.

A break.

The winner of the next three fights would face him for the last brutal match. He sat at the bar, sipping better-than-average bourbon, his female standing in the charged space between his spread thighs, almost in his lap. Tending to him. Wiping the blood from his face. Giving him little sips of her beer. He didn't talk and his hands never left her skin. Smelled good. Tasted good. Spicy and wanting. It was almost too much. He was already starting to grind against her ass when they called for him.

The last fight now. His opponent was a massive tub of a man; a nasty motherfucker who could really take a punch. He gave them pretty good, too. It was a brutal, bloody slog full of cheap shots, surprise lefts and a fucking hard kick to the balls. He relished every minute. An elbow to the head finally ended it, but not before he'd spat a mouthful of blood to the dirty floor. The amber slug of bourbon he took afterwards burned all the way down and felt like fire where his teeth had mashed into the inside of his cheek.

King of the Cage.

And she saw it all.

Her body was all but humming with anticipation. She stood stock still, a predatory pillar of ivory in a sea of seething humanity.

The crowd parted as he left the cage. Nobody wanted to be between the Wolverine and his woman. A brown envelope was pressed into his hand; a fat purse. Four grand, tonight. The Wolverine didn't give a shit about the money. All he wanted was the girl on fire for him.

He didn't cheer. He didn't shout or pound his chest. He had no need to prove himself to lesser creatures. His female's eyes were on him as he redressed. The mating scent was on her, her body already showing him her approval and acceptance before he'd even touched her.

In the wake of the rush from the cage came lust so sharp it crawled over his skin like metal spires, twisting and digging deep. Riding him hard. The feeling was confusing. It was the first time that he hadn't felt the man trying to immediately reassert his primacy following a fight. A welcome surprise. He was wary at first but as the seconds ticked by without the bars coming crashing down, he couldn't help but test the boundaries by doing the one thing that always brought the leash.

He grabbed his female, an iron hand at the hollow of her back to press her small, soft body against his thick erection and put his teeth on her neck. He waited for the chains. When none came, the hot sear of elation roared through him sharp and strong.

This chance would not be wasted.

* * *

Up next: **The Wolverine**. The Wolverine finally claims his mate...


	32. The Wolverine

Wolverine drove his woman before him, using his body to crowd her and press her on. They would not join in this filthy stinking place. He would not share her luscious scent with the pack of inferior males pressing in around them. But it must be soon, before the man tried to suppress the animal's consciousness in favor of his own.

The darkness swallowed them as they left the small circle of light outside of the bar.

They made it as far as the truck.

He pressed her hard against it. She gasped at the sharp bite of the cold metal, even through her clothes, and turned in his arms. He allowed the small defiance, curious. Did she not know how to present herself for mating? Or was she trying to entice and inflame him? There was no need. He was ready for her. His body throbbed with need.

She was motionless against him. It made him more aware of her than if she'd been clutching at him wildly. Her body was still as a rabbit run to ground, but she was not prey. She was strong. Vibrant. Breathing in his nearness. Feeling his energy. Showing him her female power. Showing him what being close to him did to her. She was not cowed. She was burning; want so keen and sharp it left her shaken.

It began with a tremor. The slightest twitch of her hand. Her chest rose with another deep breath, bringing him into her. He smelled of sweat, of the musk of his body, and of the blood left behind on his flesh by those not strong enough to have earned the right to take the small female that stood before him. She quivered. The light flutter became a full body tremble and she reached for him, letting her head fall back to bare her neck to him as she whimpered softly.

The submission was flawless.

_He_ did this to her.

That inflamed them both.

The first touch of her hands on his skin was electric, spurring him into motion. He pulled her hands away and turned her in his arms. He would allow her touch after. Now it was his time to take what he wanted. What he'd earned. He would have his pleasure, and hers. Feel her soft, warm body clench around him in satisfaction. Hear her call out to him.

When she reached for the handle on the truck's door, he knocked her hand away with a warning snarl.

"Sugar?"

He growled again, pushing at her until she wrapped both hands over the bed of the truck and locked her arms. He had not left one metal cage only to enter another. He would take her here, in the elements, not in the metal cage the man owned. The forest was at his back and the moon shone overhead. This was his world; the green skitter of northern lights, the snow underfoot, and the creak of the wind in the tall pines.

It would be here. Like this.

Free.

He pressed up against her hard, molding himself to her supple back. His hands gripped her breasts firmly, squeezing and stroking through her clothes as he ground against her supple curves.

"Yes, sugar... more..."

He left one hand gripping her breast to keep her pinned to him and slid the other lower to cup her crotch possessively. She was warm against his palm. Pliant. Her legs parted easily, inviting his touch.

She smelled so good. So ready. He wanted to rip their coverings away and follow his nose, to bury his face where her alluring scent was strongest and feast on her, but it was too cold to expose his mate to the elements. Next time he would find a soft, warm den where he could bare all of her skin for their pleasure, but his mate was strong and fiery and he knew she would find pleasure, even in this rough joining. He must not waste the chance he had now. The man could try to wrest control from him at any moment.

He had little use for the man. The man had allowed his mate to go unclaimed for years. Even now that the man had finally taken what was theirs, he didn't behave as he should. The drive to hole up with her for the winter and keep her filled with his seed until her belly grew ripe burned brightly inside him, urgent and fierce. Vital. Like breath. Like the hunt. Like freedom.

His hands slipped up under her garments to grab her breasts, fine round mounds that filled his hands. Soft sweet flesh that would give nourishment and comfort to their little ones. She would suckle him, too. He would know all her scents and tastes.

"Ummm..."

His mate arched against him, pressing herself harder into his palms and braced her hands on the truck to push back at him and rub against the evidence of his desire. That pleased him. She _did_ know what to do. Their eyes met over her shoulder and he rumbled his approval against her satiny skin before he licked her from her collarbone to just under her ear, enjoying her soft, needy whimper. She liked his mouth on her. Her scent, her flesh, her voice called to him, crying out for him to join with her.

His hands shoved impatiently at her pants, ripping at the fastenings to expose her curves and her wet, pink opening to him. The rich scent clouded his brain and made his head spin.

"Yes! Now! Here... like this... I want you so much, sugar... so much..."

He peeled himself from her back long enough to stroke long fingers through her slick folds. The scent. The scent. Maddening. He wanted to feast on her and hated that he could not. Instead, he wiped glistening slippery fingers over her cheek and down her neck, growling and nipping at her as the luscious scent filled his every sense until he was wild with hunger for her. He wanted to gorge on that heady aroma while he thrust deep inside her small body. To nuzzle her face and lick at her skin, to press his mouth to hers with that scent between them.

This time when he touched her, he pushed his fingers deep and she gasped, shuddering and rocking on his hand as he gathered more of the intoxicating scent. He wiped his own nose and mouth, slicking his chin before sliding his hand back down the side of her neck. This time she turned her head, nipping and licking at his fingers until he relented and pushed them into her mouth.

The sucking swirl of her tongue brought him close but it was the sharp sting of her teeth and the knowledge that she wanted to lick at her own taste that sent him over the edge. He ripped at his own pants, exposing himself to the cold night air. His flesh glistened too, dripping with need. He gathered the slippery fluid on his fingers; he had no need of it, his mate was more than ready to accept his body. When he brushed his wet fingertips over her mouth, she keened, offering herself to him shamelessly.

He kicked her legs apart with his boot, stepping between them, and took her as he was meant to. One hard shove. All in.

Her soft cry fired his blood.

He held nothing back. The second thrust lifted her heels from the ground. By the third, she was moaning openly, the world forgotten. The breath rushed out of her with each powerful thrust. Her heart beat in time with the rhythm he'd set. He nuzzled and licked at her, his body pressed close and his face over her shoulder so he could touch his mouth to hers and inhale her sweet, soft cries; one hand possessively on her neck and the other on her hip to keep her locked to him.

She shifted, legs shaking, and arched to drive him deeper, her arms locked to give him resistance, something immovable and receptive to thrust against as he surged into her. So deep this way. So good. _Safe_. Tight. Strong muscles clenching around him hard. Hot inside. Cold when he pulled out. So sharp in contrast to the plunging, inward sear. His powerful hips pumped until she was no longer braced against the truck but clinging to it, her body rising with his now as he moved. Her body tightened on him, clenching rhythmically as she found release.

Her lusty cry of satisfaction pleased him. He had made her do that. He wanted her to know he was a good strong, mate. He would always give her what she needed. Protection. Meat. Soft furs to sleep in. Carnal pleasure. Affection. Strong little ones who shouted of their need to suckle with hearty cries. She would teach them how to love. He would teach them how to survive. Together they would be complete.

He pinned her against the truck, needing her to be still now while he finished. Teeth hard on her neck. A sharp bite, not a nip this time, locking her to him while his back hunched and his hips rutted against her pliant body, hard enough that she gasped at the impact. His bellow of completion was joyous and loud. A primal sound was torn from him as he filled her small channel with his potent seed. He could feel it running down her legs as he collapsed against her back and pulled her tightly against him, keeping her close while he recovered. His hand found hers and he laced their fingers.

"That's right! Fuck her, man!" A crude shout echoed from across the darkness. The murmur of disembodied drunken laughter followed, a sound that cut off abruptly at his savage snarl.

His mate crooned to him softly, soothing him. The scent of their mating filled his head, joining the luscious musk he'd wiped on their skin. He rested his forehead on her back, panting softly as the world returned by slow degrees. He could feel the man's consciousness wanting to emerge now. The man was impatient, but not trying to take over by force. That pleased him.

He was not finished with his woman. She was the only one who'd ever touched his body gently, softly. He would not give that up. He would not allow the man to rush this moment in his haste to reassure himself that his wilder counterpart had not hurt their mate. Foolish man, to be worried about such a thing. How many times must he prove himself? How many times must he surrender his life to her for the man to understand he would never harm her? She was first above all things. And much, much stronger than the man realized.

Still, she was not inured to the elements like he was. He could feel her shivering now that the heat of their joining had passed and he reluctantly uncoupled from her, fixing his own coverings and then reaching for hers. He did not want to cover her nakedness, but the idea of his seed drenching her skin under her clothes pleased him. He was confused when she stopped him, catching his thick wrist in her gloved hand.

What? Was she pushing him away? Now? He would not allow it. A growl rose, but her words were soft as she turned in his arms. No. Not pushing him away. Guiding his blood-spattered hand between her legs to feel her flesh, wet with his seed. He rumbled his approval. She brought his fingers up, wetting her lips with their essence and then she touched her mouth to his. Sweetly. Gently. He liked that; liked the scent, the taste and the closeness. They would do this again when they had a softer, warmer den to couple in.

This time when he reached for her, she was eager for him to cover her skin from the wind's icy bite. He allowed her to touch him all she wanted now, purring his pleasure to her as he felt her small hands smoothing his wild hair back from his temples and rubbing along his jaw and neck. She nuzzled him, leaving tender little kisses as she went. A little nip of her own and her tongue flickering out to sample the flavors of sex and salt lingering on his skin.

Her arms drew him close and he dropped his head to her shoulder, replete; spent and satiated in a way he had never before felt. Was this peace? It was a foreign feeling, as surprising as it was addicting, and one he would fight to the end to defend. He must not lose this.

The little murmurs she'd been whispering to him began to make more sense as he allowed the man to join their shared consciousness. To join it, but not to control it entirely.

"... so much... so good….Thank you, sugar... Thank you so much for giving us that. It was so beautiful..."

He could smell her tears. "Hurt you?" he managed to get out.

"Never." Her voice was quiet but fierce. "Not hurt. Moved."

"Good."

"You'd never hurt me. Not any part of you."

Her words reassured him this time, but he was still unconvinced that it would be like that every time. And he knew there would be more times. She needed it and so did he.

"Did he say anythin'?"

"Yes."

"Grab you and growl 'mine'?" He could feel Wolverine inside of him. They shared this body and he'd been feeling that sentiment for more a decade. It was literally all the animal felt sometimes, that he wanted her and she belonged to him.

"No."

"No?" That surprised him.

"He just said one word, sugar. Just one, so softly. Over and over."

"Yeah?"

"Safe." Her voice was so gentle. "At- at the very end he said 'safe' every time he pushed inside of me."

"God." That rocked him back. The animal knew all along what the man had been unsure of. Wolverine had been the one with the guts to give every last piece of himself to her when the man was still holding things back. That sobered him a little and he could feel an internal snarl, a rebuke from the Wolverine for the man's truculence and stupidity. He hated it even more because he couldn't just change ten years of conditioning on a dime. Change was hard. Vulnerability was harder still.

"It's okay. It's fine, sugar. You move in your time and so does he. I don't expect you to change overnight. You waited a decade for me. I can wait for you, too."

He nodded. It grated that the Wolverine was willing to throw down, to go all-in while the man still sometimes hesitated.

"Will you tell me what he did?"

"Yes. But not now. Later, in bed tonight after I've made love to you." That soothed him a little. It was strange to feel jealous of himself, but in a way, he was. He needed reassurance she wanted him too. Wanted the man, even with all his human failings.

"You liked what he did?"

"Yes. So much. He was very good to me."

"He wants you again."

"Good." That was his mind blown. "I want him too. I love all of you, sugar. Every bit."

"All of me and all of you," he intoned quietly.

It sounded very much like a vow.

"Yes."

He kissed her. It was wet and deep and slow. His hand went to the door of the truck to open it for her and then he stopped, surprised by what he saw. There on the top edge of the truck bed were the ripples of fingerprints in the metal, like she'd been digging her fingers into firm clay instead of rolled steel.

Her eyes followed his.

"Oh my God. Your truck." Her face heated and he chuckled as he ran a thumb over the indents.

"Musta been a damn good one."

"It was." Different than she'd imagined it would be, both as a girl and as a woman, and deeply satisfying. Emotionally. Physically. Carnally. "I can fix it." She didn't really want to erase that mark but she would. For him.

She lifted her hand and reached for Erik's gift.

"No."

"No?"

"Leave it, baby."

"You're sure?"

"I like it."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Gonna think of this night every time I see it, so yeah."

That surprised her a little, that he'd give the Wolverine that.

"For him?"

"For you." He sighed softly. "For me. For him. We gotta start somewhere, kid."

Her smile was as bright and soft as the moon, but she recognized he wasn't up for any deep talks right now. The set of his shoulders and the heaviness in his body spoke of his exhaustion. He'd fought hard tonight. Loved hard, too. Her body ached, but it was a good sore. She felt well loved.

"You want me to drive, sugar?"

"You'd do that?" It still caught him off guard when she did that. He was used to everyone expecting him to be unbreakable all the time. To never feel pain or exhaustion. Hell, most people didn't expect him to feel anything at all. She was the only one who saw that sometimes even the Wolverine needed a little softness. He was a man, first and foremost.

"Sure."

"You gonna let me sleep on your thigh?"

Her blush was back.

"As long as you don't mind."

"Mind what?" he said, climbing into the passenger seat.

She settled next to him in the driver's seat and adjusted the mirrors.

"I'm a little, you know, umm..." His brow arched. "Fragrant, after that."

He chuckled. "Baby, if it wasn't so goddamn cold, he'd pull down your pants, lick you clean from stem to stern and fill you back up again."

"Oh!"

He loved that about her, that the woman who brazenly fucked the Wolverine against a truck in the middle of a Canadian winter still blushed when he said something naughty to her afterwards. She was every bit the Rogue. But she was still his Marie, too.

"That's pretty much all he wantsta do," he muttered.

"Lick me?" That time it was her brow that went up playfully.

"Heh. No. Keep ya filled up. But he wouldn't mind a lifetime of the other, either."

Her smile faded a little. "Does he know about the birth control? That right now I can't..."

"He don't like it none, but he knows. It ain't gonna stop him from tryin' though. He'll get his way eventually. Nature always beats technology in the end."

That made them both smile, and into the comfortable silence he offered up something he never thought he'd share aloud.

"It ain't just me. He misses our daughter too. That damn near broke us both."

"Oh, sugar. I'm so sorry."

"I know it ain't the right time. Not yet. But when it is, he wants that again, someday. And he wants it with you. We both do."

"Me too."

They pulled each other close and held each other long minutes in the quiet as the heater warmed the air around them and the serious moment eased. They pulled apart slowly. Sweetly. Not quite able to give each other up just yet.

Logan groaned softly as he lay down on the bench seat and put his head on her thigh.

"What?"

"It ain't just him who likes the way you smell, darlin'. I like you best this way too. Me all over your skin and you smellin' like a warm, satisfied woman."

That time she didn't blush.

"I am a warm, satisfied woman." He chuckled and closed his eyes at the soothing feel of her fingers in his hair, gently stroking his scalp.

"Heh."

"You know it doesn't just have to be only this way."

"Which way?"

"After a fight. Or-or after something bad. I want him to have all the good things I give to you, too. He can come out whenever he needs to. When it's just us, alone somewhere nice and cozy. He doesn't have to have a reason."

He didn't say anything but his hand found hers and he held on tightly.

"He was very good to me. I want to be good to him too. I love all of you," she affirmed. "Thank you so much for tonight."

"Was it what you thought it'd be?"

"No." Her hand squeezed his. "It was better."

When he looked up, the expression on her face was unreadable.

"What's that look for?"

"Sugar, I'm taking the King of the Cage home to my bed and for some reason, he wants to keep waking up there. I'd pinch myself, but I don't wanna wake up." A soft hum of satisfaction rumbled through her. "I'm happy."

Happiness. No wonder he hadn't recognized the emotion. He had little experience with happiness.

He touched his face gently with fingers that smelled of her and sex, and felt her expression echoed in his own features.

Happiness for the Wolverine.

Who would have guessed such a thing was even possible?

**~ooOoo~**

She simply couldn't resist. His naked backside was entirely too enticing. His hair was still damp from his recent shower and he was digging through his pack for a fresh pair of jeans when Marie wound up the damp towel he'd left beside her on the bed and snapped him hard on the ass with a loud pop.

It was his startled yelp and not the playful look of outrage on his face that sent her into fits of giggles that were so strong they made her eyes water. Still, humor aside, she was smart enough to scramble back and put the bed between them as he rounded on her.

"Oh, sugar. You should have seen your face..."

"Gonna get you for that, little girl." He gave his stinging backside a rueful look and then turned his head and grinned at her. "That fuckin' hurts."

"Maybe so, but probably not as much as your pride when you yelped like a pup."

"Heh. You're _really_ gonna get it now."

"I'm shakin' in my boots, sugar."

"You ain't wearin' boots." In point of fact, she wasn't wearing anything except for the fire-engine red polish she'd painted on her toes while he was in the shower. He took a menacing step forward. She didn't back up but he could hear her heart beat faster. Good. He feigned a jump forward, delighted when she squeaked and prepared to bolt.

He was up and over the bed in a flash.

She was fast but he was faster. He caught her by the bathroom door and was completely surprised when she turn and pushed him. Hard. It was the first time she'd ever used her gifts with him that way. He sailed a good ten feet across the room and crashed on the bed on his back, a look of surprise on his face. She flew after him. Literally flew and landed on top of him. The solid pine frame splintered under them with an impressive crack and the mattress dropped to the floor.

For a second there was complete silence as they lay there in the sunshine, surrounded by dust motes and the little chuffs of air from the giggles behind Marie's hand.

"Shit, baby." There was a touch of wonder in his amused voice. He was impressed. It took a hell of a lot of force to toss a six-foot-three, metal-laced man across a room.

"Well, there goes the deposit."

"Fuck the deposit. It's already gone, so we might as well enjoy it."

He flipped her under him quickly, released his claws and rammed them into the mattress on either side of her head with a deep growl.

"You wanna?"

"Try and stop me, sugar..."

**~ooOoo~**

Six nights later, they were in a different rented cabin. A fire blazed in the stone hearth. She sat in his lap beside the fire, facing him. They were sharing a pint of butter brickle ice cream and trading cold, toffee-flavored kisses. He was naked. She was wearing his flannel shirt, unbuttoned. His preference. Hers too, truth be told.

"God. This tastes just like my childhood," Marie hummed happily around the spoon.

"Don't bogart the spoon, kid. S'good."

"My favorite."

"I could tell." He commandeered her hand and drove her bite to his mouth instead.

"Hey!" She spoiled it by giggling, glad he liked her favorite flavor so much. "What's yours?"

"Favorite ice cream?"

"Yeah."

"Guess."

"Pistachio?"

"What? Hell no. The only ice cream that should be green is mint chip."

"Fair enough. How about lemon cream?" She knew he liked those tart-sweet flavors.

"Gettin' warmer."

"Hmm... ginger?"

He tapped her forehead softly. "You cheatin'?"

"Maybe a little. But not like you mean. The part of you I keep with me, I respect your privacy there, you know?"

"You do?"

"Sure. As much as I can. I always have."

"I guess I thought once it was up there, I just assumed you saw it all, went through it whenever you wanted."

"Not really. No. Not like you mean."

"Then how'd you know about the ginger?"

"You took me for ice cream once years ago. Back before Charles died. When I had that really bad nightmare and you found me crying in the den, remember?"

"Yeah. We didn't have ginger though. We had double scoops, eggnog and rum raisin."

"We did. I can't believe you remember that."

"Hey, it was our first date."

Her eyes widened.

"I thought you were kidding about that. That you only said that to cheer me up."

"Nope."

"Wow."

He just shrugged. "Still doesn't explain how you know about the ginger."

"Oh. That? I heard you ask the girl behind the counter if they had any. She said no but she was so into you, she looked like she wished she could have made it for you from scratch right there. She unbuttoned two buttons on her uniform before she bent to scoop your ice cream."

"I don't remember that."

"I do."

"I just remember you. Your hair was down. You were wearin' a green scarf."

"That's- that's really sweet."

"Mmph."

"So...ginger ice cream? Really?"

"Yeah. Sweet. Hot. Creamy. What's not to like?"

"Are you talking about sex or ice cream?"

They finished off the carton and set it aside.

"Heh. Either. I could stand more of both."

Marie stripped off his shirt and they snuggled down in front of the fire, wrapping up in the blanket they'd bought.

"So, ice cream and sex, huh? That takes care one favorite. What about your favorite position?"

"For eatin' ice cream?" His brow arched and she swatted his chest.

"You know what I mean!"

She pulled him on top of her and he came to rest in the cradle of her hips. She rubbed up against him suggestively. "You know mine."

"I do. You come more on top, but the kinda orgasms you have under me are in a class by themselves, baby." Sometimes she keened. Sometime she wept. They were powerful and moving for them both.

He was not wrong.

"They are. I love feeling your weight on me. That's the best for me, sugar. Feeling you all around me, over me and inside me. So hot and good and safe and wild. My favorite. Definitely."

"Mmm..."

"I know his favorite, too."

She turned over under him and rubbed the soft curves of her buttocks against him, smiling over her shoulder at him as she felt him grow thick and hard against her. The rasp of his hairy body made her shiver in anticipation. She'd been with the Wolverine enough times now to know what he liked too. Logan had been surprisingly generous about letting him out, although he'd made her promise to always tell him what had happened afterwards. They had settled into a routine, patterned after that first night. He allowed Wolverine to surface and take what he wanted without interference from the man. They usually fell asleep when they were done, tangled together in a pile of soft blankets.

When they woke, she'd make love with Logan and then afterwards, entwined, sometimes with him still inside her, she'd tell him about being with the Wolverine. Sometimes it shocked or surprised him. Sometimes it aroused him and they made love again. Sometimes his eyes gleamed gold when they did, and she wondered which one of them she was making love to. She liked it best when they were both there, Wolverine's raw sexual energy and Logan's intensity, playfulness, and propensity to talk back to her in bed along with Wolverine's nonverbal sounds.

His growl brought her back from her musings.

"So he likes to give it to ya from behind. Not much of a surprise there, is it?"

"Maybe not. But it's always good for me, sugar."

"For him, too."

"What about your favorite?"

He thought about that a moment.

"Why limit myself to just one?"

"Come on. Everyone has a favorite. The one that gets them off the best."

"Depends."

"On?"

"The mood. Are we fuckin'? Makin' love? Just playin' and havin' fun?"

"Hmm..."

She was surprised and a little hurt that he wouldn't answer her directly. She couldn't imagine why he felt he couldn't share that, considering everything they'd shared since he'd found her, sexual and otherwise. There was very little they hadn't done sexually at this point.

"Depends on the venue, too."

"Venue?"

"Floor. Bed. Chair. Wall. Table. Shower." He eyed her purposefully. "Truck." Their truck had seen more than its fair share of action in the last several weeks. It amused him that someone as old as dirt was suddenly as wild for it as a goddamn teenager and she was just as bad, encouraging him even when she shouldn't.

"So, no favorite then?" She pushed, but only a little, sensing his unease under the easy smile.

"They're all my favorite when they're with you, kid."

While it was an honest answer, and a sweet one, they both knew he'd sidestepped her question. What she didn't know was why. Logan didn't really know either.

The Wolverine just snarled in his head, disappointed with the man's stupidity.

* * *

Up next: **The Fight**. "Come on, baby. Stop tryin' to hit me and fuckin' hit me already. These little love taps ain't doin' anythin' but ticklin' me and wreckin' the furniture."


	33. The Fight

They were still in their underwear, getting dressed after an extended session of early morning lovemaking that had spilled over into the shower. Marie had a damp towel in her hands and a naughty sparkle in her eye.

"Snap me with that again, kid, and it's on. So you better think real hard about what you wanna do here before you- HEY! Ow! Fuck! Heh. That fuckin' hurts!"

Christ, she had good aim with that thing.

"Ohh... did I do that, sugar?"

"Fine, you wanna go, we'll go, baby." He stripped off the boxer-briefs he'd just put on.

"Wait— what?"

"I told ya. Back in the diner's bathroom that first day, remember?"

She did. He'd promised her he'd spar with her for real, but only if it was naked sparring and he'd also implied pretty heavily that he'd consider it foreplay. She took her panties off and threw them at him.

"Rules?"

"No claws. No Magneto. Everythin' else goes, darlin'."

"Everything?"

"Hell, yes." He stroked himself, just to watch her eyes widen. He was absolutely not above distracting her by any means necessary.

"Works for me, sugar."

She did plenty of distracting of her own. With her body. With Bobby's gift. With Remy's. She might have even paffed him once or twice.

They danced around it a little first. It was more roughhousing than actual sparring in the beginning. Playing with each other. Feeling each other out. Finding the edges. Rolling and growling and rubbing against each other as they grappled for primacy. They knocked all the pillows off the bed, a picture off the wall and broke a chair.

By the time they were fighting in earnest, they'd pretty much wrecked the entire room. Another deposit lost. This would be the fourth this month. There was a definite pattern emerging there.

"Come on, baby. Stop tryin' to hit me and fuckin' hit me already. These little love taps ain't doin' anythin' but ticklin' me and wreckin' the furniture."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?" He was half amused and half offended.

"I broke Hank's arm." He could sort of see where she was coming from, but Christ. Who did she think she was playing with here?

"I'm not Hank." He stalked her. "I heal. I'm laced with unbreakable metal, baby. Even you can't damage that. I think your pride's just afraid I'm gonna beat the shit outta you. Pin you like the little girl you are then take what's mine."

Her eyes narrowed at his playful goading.

"Maybe I'll pin you and take what's mine, Wolverine."

"Try it, woman. Braggin' rights for a month says you can't."

"Watch me, sugar."

She came at him for real that time, swinging hard. He ducked the first three but she caught him with a strong right that got under his formidable defenses and hit him on the left side. Hard. Once was all it took. He grunted, shifting his stance to lead with his right, arms up, protecting his left side and giving his ribs time to heal while still coming at her offensively. He was very careful to keep his left side out of her reach.

Marie saw the shift in his fighting stance and cringed. "Oh, God. Oh my God! I hurt you. I really hurt you." She dropped her arms, instantly contrite.

That was what he'd been waiting for. A moment was all it took.

He was on her before she knew it and had her pinned beneath him in seconds, breathing hard, a predatory grin splitting his face wide. She was physically stronger but he was the better fighter. Cunning. Ruthless where she wavered. He had more experience - and the Wolverine snarling in his head. He was not about to lose to her. No fucking way.

"Heh. Gotcha, kid."

"You- you big faker!"

"All's fair in love and sparrin', darlin'."

She snickered. "That's cheating, sugar."

"Pinned is pinned, baby. Say it."

"Say what?"

"I dunno. I got braggin' rights for a whole month. Go with what works for ya. How about 'Wolverine kicked my cute little ass real good' or maybe 'Rogue's a wuss' or-"

"Wolverine's a cheating cheater who cheats?"

"Heh. You're welcome to try it on, kid. But I'll just pin ya again and then it will be eight weeks of me ownin' your ass instead of four."

"Ooooh!"

"Heh. Indignation's a good color on you, baby. Makes your good bits bounce real nice, too." His eyes danced, sliding toward gold. "I still can't hear ya."

She smiled beautifully. "Sure, sugar. Wolverine is the King of the Cage... and the bedroom."

He grinned.

"And Marie."

"And Marie." Her expression was wicked. "But only for four weeks. Then his ass is _mine_."

"Heh. S'already yours, baby."

He rolled off her and let her up. She grinned as she stood and stretched. She missed his wince as he stood too and pressed his hand against his aching side. That had fucking hurt. Bad. If Marie knew she'd really broken his ribs, she'd never forgive herself. In different ways, they'd each underestimated the other's ability. It was a good lesson for them both.

And it was also just damned good fun.

**~ooOoo~**

The second time she saw him fight was as profound as the first. The venue was bigger, the crowd a little rougher, a little more mixed. More cage bunnies. More women. More challengers who'd eagerly jumped onto the MMA craze and felt like they could make some quick money after paying for a few lessons in some fancy gym. It made Logan roll his eyes. It made the Wolverine grin. He liked it better when they were sober enough to hit back hard.

The promoters had wanted to capitalize on the shift in their usual crowd and had set up a few rounds of female fights before the main even got started. Logan watched Marie's eyes roll at the overt sexism there, but he could tell she was interested. She liked a good fight too, though with her gifts she outclassed even the best of the male fighters and they both knew it.

He leaned in close to her ear while they watched the announcer work the crowd, trying to drum up even more female fighters. "Don't even think it, darlin'."

Her eyes danced. "No?"

His fingers brushed her nape possessively. "Nobody makes you bleed but me." The comment was primal but also tender in its own way, and reminded her of that night they spoke about Scott. It was almost like he was reclaiming that for himself in a way.

The husky words surprised her and when he lifted his head, she saw his eyes flash gold. That surprised her too. The Wolverine wasn't so verbally articulate and it was the first time she'd seen them merged so seamlessly outside of sex and meditation.

She liked it.

Marie canted her neck, inviting his teeth.

He nipped at her playfully and then not so playfully.

The next time he pulled away, she could see Logan had given ground to the Wolverine. This was his place. His night. The man wasn't good for much, in his opinion, but at least he respected his primacy in this place.

The fighting was brutal and bloody and he relished every moment of it. This time when it was over, he couldn't wait to get her to the truck. He knew her now in a way he hadn't the last time. They had been intimate many times now and that feeling of familiarity bred a very different sort of wildness. He knew her. Knew what she liked. Knew she wanted him. Knew she accepted him, even the shameful man-part that still disappointed them both.

This time they couldn't wait to get to the haven of the truck. They pushed and pulled each other to the alley out back. She'd worn the green wrap dress tonight and he growled in approval, snarling and biting at her as he fucked her hard against the cold, gritty bricks.

He was rougher this time, wilder, now that they had an established baseline. She only urged him on with mewls and throaty groans and the sweet honey that dripped from her. Undeniable proof of her desire for him and what he was doing to her. It was raw and primal and they found a new physical threshold together as they broke themselves against each other. It was a definite escalation from the first time he was with her after he fought. It was all wild. All carnal. All Wolverine.

There was nothing soft until afterwards. The sex was meaningful and powerful and so good, even without hearts and flowers and tenderness. There were tears on her face after. That confused him because his mate only smelled satisfied and happy. He licked the salty tears from her cheeks, nuzzling her and rubbing his face against her until she calmed. He slid lower, beneath her skirt and groomed her there, too, kissing and licking. Chasing after the beads of pearly fluid that trickled down her thigh toward her boot.

She cleaned him too, pushing him back against the wall and drawing a small 'oof' from him with her strong hand as she knelt and took him into her mouth, licking and cleaning him like she would a cub. He purred out his pleasure to her and held her a long time afterwards, rubbing noses and whining softly in his throat, interspersed with low rumbles of satisfaction from deep in his chest.

Logan was less pleased when she told him about it the morning after.

_Get a room next time_ , he'd said. _No more alleys_.

Marie just smiled sweetly.

She wasn't about to make that promise.

**~ooOoo~**

Another night. Another cabin. Another fire. The pattern was familiar now, but what happened inside the walls was never predictable. There was always someplace new to go, a topic they'd never discussed. A position they'd never tried. A hope or dream they'd never shared. An argument they'd never had. A meal they'd never cooked together.

The cabin was old, with a colorful history. The local story claimed it had once belonged to a madam and had been used as a whorehouse for men in the mining camp a little further up the mountain back in the late 1800's. Neither of them could really see how. It was really too small for that. The original cabin was only one big open room and a small bathroom. The seventies addition had only added two tiny bedrooms upstairs. Marie couldn't help but wonder about the stories the walls could tell if the history proved true.

And wouldn't that be an interesting gift?

To touch the walls of an old place like this and 'hear' those old echoes?

They both laughed at the absurdity of that idea, though the notion didn't seem quite so romantic to Logan. His nature was more pragmatic. How many orgasms had this old shack seen? God, he hoped someone cleaned the fuckin' place well sometime in the last century. And what the fuck was that weird stain on the wall by the woodstove?

The bed was lumpy. They'd taken turns making ridiculous guesses. Castoff mattress from some dubious source? Military surplus? Relic from the Cold War? Marie won when she offered up, "Belonged to the original owner?"

Logan shuddered, shaking his head and added, "No fuckin' way are we sleepin' on that. Who knows how much humpin' that bed's seen?"

Marie threw their blanket at him. "Probably not as much as this has, sugar."

He just smiled. Hard to argue with the truth.

They made a nest of blankets in front of the fire and settled in. A small storm had rolled through in the last few hours. The howling wind had given way to a heavy silent snowfall of fat, wet flakes. Maybe a foot by morning. There was something about it that Logan liked.

It settled him.

The silence outside. The fire crackling. The snow building up on the window panes. Frost on the glass. It felt good seeing that from the inside looking out, wrapped up safe and warm with the woman he loved.

The metal of the woodstove ticked pleasantly in the background.

Logan was on the floor, reclining back against the couch, a small sea of pillows behind him. Marie liked to travel light, but she sure did like a soft place to sleep. Every pillow from the beds upstairs had to be down here tonight.

She was straddling his lap, facing him, her knees on either side of his hips while they talked. She was wearing his flannel shirt and nothing else. He was naked with just a blanket wrapped around them for warmth. They wound up this way most nights. Talking and touching. Holding hands and playing with each other softly in the orange glow of the fire. It was the play of new lovers, open and intimate. Talking about whatever came into their heads and laughing often.

They never stopped touching.

Her fingers were following the line of the dog tag he still wore around his neck. He hadn't taken it off since the night of the first fight. It wasn't so much that he'd missed the familiar weight of it. Rather, it deeply moved him that she knew that treasured memento so well that she could create an exact replica from memory. She had loved him for a long time. It bled from her every touch and made his heart glow.

"You still with me, sugar?"

They'd been having a lively debate on Krav Maga v. Aikido, which one was a more practical form of self defense. Logan preferred the flow of Aikido, the balance of beauty and use of leverage and redirection. Marie preferred Krav Maga, a blend of multiple styles, to neutralize the opponent quickly and efficiently. It wasn't as pretty as Aikido's more precise forms, but the dirty street fighting aspect of it appealed to her fiery nature.

Logan's soul, though fierce, was far more poetic than her own. She was all smoke and backwoods twang; whiskey with the fiery kick that follows. Hers was a practical approach, his spiritual. It was an ongoing conversation they picked up and set down from time to time. Both of them enjoyed a spirited conversation, but Logan had fallen quiet. She wondered where he'd gone in his mind.

He blinked at her.

"What?"

"I said are you still with me, sugar?"

"This one's my favorite."

"I know, but not everyone feels the same way about Aikido as you do, Logan. It's beautiful, but-"

"Not that. _This_." He trailed his fingertips along her spine and over the swell of her buttocks before sliding his hands down her thighs and slowly back up again. Anchoring them on her hips, he pulled her against his naked groin firmly. He wasn't hard yet and she liked the tickle of their pubic hair rubbing together. "This position," he said, meeting her eyes.

"Oh." She was pleasantly surprised by his sudden shift of mental gears and his return to a topic he'd once sidestepped and left firmly closed. "Just like this?" She rubbed against him lightly, a languid roll of her hips, wanting to be sure she understood.

He shook his head and his hands slipped back down her thighs and then along her calves. He grabbed her right foot and slowly slid it forward until her sole was pressed to the floor beside his hip. Then he slid her left foot forward and stroked her instep before he planted her sole flat on the floor beside his other hip.

"Put your hands around my neck." His voice was velvet-soft. Husky, not a whisper. His sex voice. A shiver shot through her and she felt him begin to grow hard under her. She shifted back a little to ease the pressure on him and because she liked to watch it happen; from soft to imposing in moments. It still amazed her a little every time. Between their bellies, he was rock hard. Smooth and hot. The position felt a little awkward, knees up, squatting over him, her buttocks to his groin and thighs, legs open wide. He was slightly reclined against the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him. The farther back her feet slid behind his hips, the tighter she had to grab his neck to keep from tipping backwards.

"I feel like I'm going to slip." She could see why he liked this. She was very open to him this way. Exposed.

His hands easily supported her weight.

"You won't." His grip tightened on her hips. "Lift up."

Just a small shift. She was impaled before she quite knew what he was doing. Sinking down so fast. All in. So much and so thick.

"Oh!"

"Umph!"

There was a little pinch before she adjusted. She was so full this way. So deep. could feel every inch of him as he flexed and throbbed, waiting her to soften and open to him.

Marie understood now what he meant about not slipping. Like a coat on a hook. She wasn't going anywhere.

"Why this one?"

"It's the best," he said simply.

"Why? What makes it the best?"

"S'real deep like this. I can look in your eyes. Kiss you. Watch your breasts bounce as we move."

"Yes. More." He was surprisingly open and she couldn't get enough of it.

"I can run my hands over every inch of you, touch your whole body." He did so, caressing her skin with sweeping strokes. "Even here." His fingertips slid down her spine, over her tailbone and into the cleft below. She shivered as they brushed lightly over the sensitive ring of muscle hidden there and he felt her inner muscles clench down on him hard in response. She liked that and so did he. His hooded eyes flicked from her face to where they were joined. "I can watch you takin' me in. Christ, I love that. I never get tired of seein' it." Every time she did that he felt like she was accepting him. Not just his flesh into her body, but accepting him. All of him, not just the physical parts.

"Me, too. What else?"

"You get to control the pace and how much you take in, but my cock is just so _in_ you this way. Deep. Full. Especially when you sit down real hard."

Her body mimicked his words and they both groaned.

"Mmm..."

"It ain't just movin' like that though- it don't have to be hard. You can just sit and roll those hips. Grind me. Brace yourself on my chest and just get what you need outta this. Watchin' that makes me so damn hard."

"God."

"I like watchin' ya. Really watchin'. This way lets me see what you like. What really gets you goin'. Lets me feel that sweet honey drippin' down over me when it's really good."

"It's always really good for me, sugar."

He growled softly. "I can taste you real easy like this too." He slid a hand between them, to the slick seam between their engorged flesh and brought his fingers to his mouth. He held her eyes while he inhaled their combined scent and brushed it over his lips before kissing her deeply.

"MMMmmmm!" She was flushed and breathing in shallow pants when they parted.

"I can fill my hands with your ass. Play with it. Spank ya. Shove you down if I wanna or just feel you move."

He demonstrated both and she gasped at the impact.

"Yes!"

"I like that it lets me feel you rubbin' up against me. Thighs. Belly. These..." He palmed her soft breasts. "You like rubbin' your nipples against my chest. Hair feel good for ya, baby?"

"Yes, so much, sugar. So good."

"This way leaves my hands free." The metal made his body heavy. He liked to use it with a woman and let her feel the weight, but with Marie, sometimes he wanted to just look into her face and have his hands free. He was tall and she was petite. They fit better in this position than in some of the others. "Easier to kiss ya when I'm inside you this way." He demonstrated that too. "Nibble your neck. Give ya those little kisses behind your ear that just send ya..."

"Oh!" She shuddered as his tongue and teeth found that little shivery spot. "You- you don't..."

"Don't what?" It wasn't wild sex. She was barely moving, a rhythmic rocking that ground her sweet spot against his hairy body and made them both sweat and tremble.

"You don't feel like you need more at the end? You don't have any leverage like this."

"No?" He planted his own soles and shoved up hard, lifting them both clear of the floor.

"Oh, God! Yes..."

"You're right, though." His voice hitched. "It ain't the same as bein' on top. Sometimes I need that. Needta move. To fuck. Hold you down and just give it to you hard, but-" He struggled to get to get the words out now as they drew closer to the edge. "But this is the best way, darlin'." He shuddered. "Umph! I get all of you like this. I only want it like this with you." He'd never wanted this much intimacy with anyone else. "I don't have a favorite except with _you_."

She understood now what he meant. All of her. The physical and the emotional. He liked it because for him it was the best. The closest he could be to her. The most intimate. She was a little surprised. She thought his favorite would be more animalistic and instead he'd laid his soul bare to her. Let her see that it was intimacy with her that he craved above all things. A joining of souls as well as bodies.

She was still barely moving but the intense grind had them both on the edge. He crashed over first, a hot rhythmic pulsing inside her. That sensation, the heat followed by the slippery glide that eased her last frantic movements took her with him. She didn't think she'd ever get tired of that feeling, the pressure and throbbing immediately followed by the hot gush and a deep feeling of warmth. She loved the rhythmic sounds he made then, all animal. All primal. Feeling his body shaking against hers was profound.

The sex was soft, gentle. She came looking into his face, eyes open, mouth open as she orgasmed. Her hand fluttered and he took it in his, lacing their fingers tightly as they trembled against each other, the pleasure bright and sharp before it eased down into a consuming warmth. She was so open to him. Gave him everything. Let him see all of her. It moved him deeply and he felt some of the stones in his heart fall away.

He held her close as she slumped against his chest and tucked her head under his chin, stroking her back lightly as they recovered.

"Mmm..." She smiled against his chest. "I love feeling that. That's the best for me, sugar."

"What is?"

"Feeling you come in me. Really feeling it. You're the only one who has. The only one. It makes me feel so close to you. I love you so much."

"I know." He chuckled when she hit his chest and they settled in together. He pulled the blanket over them both as their bodies began to cool.

"Logan?"

"Hmm?"

"Why couldn't you tell me that before?"

He'd expected the question and stroked her hair softly, taking a moment to put his thoughts in order.

"I dunno exactly. It wasn't that I was embarrassed or nothin'."

Marie waited in silence, feeling his chest rise and fall under her cheek as he took a deep breath and let out slowly.

"I've lost everythin' I ever had in this life that was good. Sometimes it's my own fault because I fucked it up. Lots of times it was just taken from me." He pressed a soft kiss to her hair. "It's safe in my own head. Puttin' it out there makes it real. Makes me feel vulnerable. Once I say it out loud, it's somethin' that can be taken away and I just didn't wanna lose that with you."

"Oh." That was not at all what she'd imagined. "Oh, sugar. You're not gonna lose that with me."

"You promise?" He meant it in jest, but there was an edge of desperation to the words.

"I promise."

**~ooOoo~**

"Gonna be Christmas soon, kid."

"It is."

"You wanna go home for it?"

She scooted across the truck's seat and took his hand in hers. "I'm home now, sugar."

He smiled at that. "I remember you bein' pretty into celebratin'."

"Just the baking cookies part."

She'd been pretty hesitant about a lot of things back then before she'd grown into herself, but she'd always been bossy in the kitchen and he'd liked that. He'd liked the cookies, too. "Mmm..."

"Peanut butter chocolate still your favorite?"

"Yep."

"Find us a rental cabin with a little kitchen and let's celebrate there. Just us. No presents but maybe a little tree and some cookies? Sound good?"

"Sounds real good, kid."

**~ooOoo~**

When Marie woke, Logan was curled up next to her in bed, naked. He'd pushed the covers down and was whispering against her heart. Private things. She simply lay there with her eyes closed and listened. When he was done, he moved up and kissed her tenderly.

She smiled.

He looked up and said, "Mornin', darlin'."

She ran a hand through his wild hair. It was getting long and shaggy, well past his collar now, but the points still had a tendency to stick up wildly. "I must have been a good girl this year, sugar. Santa brought me a Wolverine."

He chuckled, crawling up over her. His dog tag fell forward and brushed across her chest. It was warm from resting against his body and when it touched her skin, it was like getting two kisses. One from his mouth, the other from a symbol of her love for him.

She reached for him and took his beautiful, thick penis in her hand and asked him to love her. He took her hands away and gently pulled her from the bed. "Not here," was all he said. He led her to the door and she reached for his shirt that she'd discarded last night but he stopped her. "You won't need that, baby."

He opened the bedroom door. Just outside of it, hanging on a thread suspended from the ceiling was a paper snowflake. The kind little children make in school by folding a piece of paper in half and then in half again and then again and cutting into it with a pair of scissors before opening it up to reveal a lacy paper snowflake. She touched it with one finger and then blew on it gently, watching it twirl and flutter.

"Oh, Logan... it's beautiful."

"Merry Christmas," he said softly. He put his lips to her ear. "Close your eyes, kid." She did and he scooped her up and carried her down the hall into the open living room. It was warm and she could hear the crackle of a fire. So he'd slipped from the bed early and made a fire for them? The sweet gesture made her smile. He put her down and wrapped his arms around her from behind. She could feel the tip of his erection tickle the small of her back and when she shivered, he put his lips to her ear and whispered, "Open your eyes, darlin'."

She did and was glad his arms were there to hold her up. She'd have fallen clean over if they hadn't been. There were dozens of paper snowflakes of all different sizes and shapes suspended from the ceiling at various heights. They must have taken him a long time to make and forever to put up. How had he managed that? While she slept? He must have been up half the night.

"They're so beautiful, sugar."

On the floor underneath the most dense patch of snowflakes, he'd made a soft nest of blankets.

Marie was a little stunned by it all and felt her eyes grow wet. "I didn't do anything as grand as this. I couldn't even think of anything like this..."

His arms tightened around her. "You really think I need anythin' more than what I've got with you?"

They made love right there. It was surreal. And sweet and fun. The snowflakes whirled overhead, driven by the rising heat of their bodies, their soft pants and the motions of their hands and arms as they flailed in passion. They lay on their backs afterwards, looking up at the slowly spinning snowflakes, sweaty and glowing while his warm semen trickled from her. She felt so good, warm and loved.

They ate chocolate peanut butter cookies for breakfast.

* * *

Up next: **The Road**. From blood in the snow to a game of quarters. They've come a long way. After a night in Laughlin City, they're back where it all began...


	34. The Road

"This is the spot, isn't it?"

It was.

He didn't have to ask what she meant. The truck drifted to the side of the road just like it had more than a decade ago. They both got out. There was a lot of heavy history here. The moment was profound and solemn.

Neither of them said anything. The scene was picturesque. The forest surrounded them, silent under a thick blanket of snow.

"You wanna take a picture or somethin', kid?"

"No."

"Good." This place should remain wild, living only in their memories. Some things were too precious to capture.

She reached for his hand, brushing her thumb over his knuckles purposefully before she met his eyes.

"Baby?"

"I've had this place with me every day for years. I want to leave a piece of myself here in return. Will you help?" She carried a knife, but it couldn't pierce her skin. Only his claws could do that.

He understood completely. He hated the idea of her being hurt, but he wouldn't deny her this.

"Let me do it." He kissed her fingertips before pulling back and letting the claws out on one hand.

Their eyes met. She sliced her palm on the center blade and clenched her hand into a fist. Logan did the same and put the claws back in. Shoulder to shoulder, they dripped blood into the snow as the wounds slowly disappeared.

"This is where it started," she said softly.

"Yes." It wasn't the cage in Laughlin City. That's where it had started for Wolverine. For Logan, it had started right here.

"You took a chance on me and I took one on you, too."

"The beginnin' of a long road." He licked the trace of blood from her palm and they kissed in the lightly falling snow. Afterwards, her tongue was warm on his palm too. "Our road."

"I feel like I was born here, in a way."

Logan just nodded. His place was different. He was born the night he put his claws through her chest and she took a part of him into her keeping forever. His whole world had changed from that moment on, even if it had taken him years to realize it.

Last night they'd stayed in Laughlin City. It was different than she remembered. The city itself was larger but it felt smaller to her in a way, now that she'd seen a larger slice of the world. Now that Logan was at her side. Now that she was no longer a child on the run from life.

They'd revisited Jack's bar. It was unchanged, except for the deepening of the lines on Jack's face. He remembered them both and didn't look very pleased to see either of them, though he seemed surprised to see them together. Logan didn't fight. They simply sat at the bar and had a beer. Logan smoked a cigar. Marie put a twenty in the tip jar on the way out the door.

Karma.

They made love tenderly that night with open eyes and open hearts. Mouths hovering over each other, breathing in each other's breath. Their anima. Their soul. His eyes were gold at the end. Hers were soft and shining with love as the man and the animal claimed her in tandem.

Today they'd stopped to mark the place where they'd first stepped on the road together.

"It's a good road, sugar."

"I'm damn glad to be walkin' it with ya, kid."

"You think we'll ever come back here again?"

"Ask me again in a decade."

She smiled. "You sure you still wanna be with me in a decade?"

He loved that she had a touch of insecurity too. God knew he had it in spades. Still. A quiet smile touched his eyes. "I'll take whatever you wanna give me." One year. One hundred. One thousand.

"I want a road with you that never ends."

He smiled widely at that.

"Kid?"

"Yeah?"

"Get in."

**~ooOoo~**

"Dammit."

"Ooo..." Marie giggled. "Too bad, sugar."

They were tucked up in a hotel room playing quarters while the wind howled outside. Shots instead of beer because the healing they shared burned through the buzz of a beer too quickly. Marie was barely tipsy. Logan was drunk enough that he was beginning to sway in his chair.

"How the fuck do you keep doin' that? You cheatin'?"

"Pfff. I can, but with you I don't have to. How can someone with your senses and reflexes be this bad at quarters?" she teased.

"Hmph."

He wasn't at all bad. She was just freakishly good. Heads up. Tails up. Right hand. Left hand. Standing. Sitting. It made him crazy.

"Fuck. You absorb someone whose gift was bouncin' the fuckin' quarter into the little glass, or what?"

"Nope. It's just one of my many talents. Like my black thumb and my ability to make the best pecan pie you ever tasted. I can also tie a cherry stem in a double knot with my tongue and I can wiggle my nose like Samantha from Bewitched." He chuckled. "Now quit your stalling. You owe me a fantasy. Come on."

They'd decided at the outset that every time one of them missed, they owed the other a fantasy after they'd taken a shot. Logan was drinking rye whiskey. Marie had a bottle of Southern Comfort. The fantasies had ranged from vanilla, to chocolate, to dark fudge ripple with kinky sprinkles.

"Mmph."

"A good one this time."

"Hey, in the river rapids wasn't good?"

"For a regular guy, maybe. But we have powers. How about one that involves those in some way this time?"

"Darlin', keepin' it up in glacial runoff definitely qualifies. Believe me."

She giggled again. "Another then."

"Fine." He sat back to think, his eyes a little glassy. She was damn good at this game. He hadn't been this drunk in a while. It was fun. "How about joinin' the mile high club? Without an airplane." He waggled his brows at her suggestively.

Sex while she was flying them? Interesting.

"I thought you hated flying."

"Heh. I do. But I like sex with you."

"You're hopeless."

"Back atcha."

He stroked himself through his jeans suggestively and caused her to miss her bounce.

"Cheating!"

"All's fair in love and quarters, darlin'."

"Punk."

"Still waitin'. I expect a good one from you, too."

Her head tilted as she thought it over. "How good?" She hadn't lost very many times so there was more behind her teeth to share. Things she'd never said aloud before.

"Real fuckin' good."

"You have a preference?"

"How 'bout the one you're the most embarrassed about sharin'. Or the dirtiest one. Or one you think I won't wanna do. Or the one that gets you the hottest. Any of those would work for me, baby."

"You just want to hear me talk dirty."

"Well, yeah," he smirked.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I want to rub on you and make myself come."

"How?"

"Grinding on your fist." Her face flamed, but she didn't look away from his eyes.

They hadn't done that yet, and it had potential, but he couldn't see how powers were involved there unless she wanted to shift into an ice form first or discharge a plasma burst when she came.

"Yes. More..."

"With- with your claws out. Grinding against the dull side. Feeling that warm, smooth metal I love so much between my legs. Right up against my sweet spot. I want to come on your claws."

A growl rumbled out of him involuntarily and his eyes slid towards gold. "Jesus, kid..."

"That's okay?" Her flush grew darker and spread down her neck.

"Yeah." He swallowed hard. "Hell yeah. Let's put a pin in that one, huh?"

"You like it enough to revisit it?"

He nodded. "Sooner rather than later." But not when he was this drunk. He needed better control over himself if she wanted that.

That surprised her a little. She thought he'd protest more. He must really trust her to consider giving her that one. "Turn you on?"

"It probably shouldn't, but it does. Fuck yeah it does."

"Good."

Marie pushed Logan's quarter across the table. He'd insisted on playing with a Canadian quarter which amused her. She'd tried to find a Mississippi state quarter in her wallet but the closest she could come was Georgia. Logan's peach jokes had become increasingly less sophisticated and increasingly more crude but no less hilarious as the evening wore on.

He bounced and missed.

"Dammit!"

"You sure you're not doing it on purpose?"

He could see why she might think that. Sometimes was easier for him to talk when there was a specific reason driving it, but not tonight.

"Darlin', I like winnin' too much to take a dive this many damn times."

She snickered. "Well then drink up and let's hear it..."

"What kinda one you want this time?"

"I liked your list. Most embarrassing? Dirtiest? One you think I won't do? One that gets you off the best. Surprise me."

_If you can._

It hung there between them. Another gauntlet thrown down. And he was drunk enough to pick it back up again.

"I want you to turn it on while I'm inside you."

That got her attention.

"Really?"

She thought he'd be embarrassed. He wasn't. He was staring at her intently, waiting for her reaction.

"Yeah."

"Sugar, turning my skin on while we're having sex is going to end things pretty quick."

"I know. I wanna make you come first and then I wantcha to do it when I come."

"Oh!" There was a flash of slow heat in her belly that felt heavy and full.

"I wanna feel you pullin' me in while I'm fillin' you up."

"Wow. That's... wow. Um, okay. Wow."

"That's three 'wows' now." He still hadn't looked away. "Too weird?"

"No. It's just I don't want to hurt you, especially _then_. And I promised I wouldn't hurt you _there_ again."

"I told ya. It don't feel like pain to me." He wondered if the rush of endorphins would heighten his pleasure.

"I don't know..."

"I gave you the Wolverine," he said softly.

He had.

"Yes."

"Maybe you could think about givin' me this sometime?"

She thought that over.

"Maybe. Some things are better left fantasy, though. You told me that."

"I sure did. But it worked out for us last time," he pointed out.

She smiled at him as his eyes flashed gold.

"It sure did, sugar."

He pushed her quarter back over to her. "You wanna go again?"

"You up for it?"

"Hey, I'm not so drunk I can't play." He grinned. "Or so drunk that I can't get it up when we're done."

"From here it looks like it's already up."

"Wanna play the next round sittin' in my lap?"

She threw her head back and laughed. "Sure, sugar. Sure. But you're going down, you know that, right?"

He just smiled. "Well, one of us is goin' down, kid. Now c'mere..."

**~ooOoo~**

Logan used an old wooden whiskey box for his dopp kit. It always made Marie smile when she saw it. That was just so _him_. She loved watching him shave. It had become another of their little rituals _—_ like pizza Mondays, and sleeping in front of the fire in a nest of blankets, and giving each other space in the evening to meditate. Logan liked it too. She usually sat on the counter in her underwear, eyes all over him, warm and easy, as she watched the smooth, controlled motions. The intimate care of his body. He hadn't shared that with many women. Only two in all the years he could remember. The distraction was worth the nick or two he usually wound up giving himself.

Today it was a matching bra and panty set the color of new grass, a bright vivid green, like the sparkly polish on her toes. It wasn't quite as vibrant as her eyes, but enough to make her look almost otherworldly as she sat on the counter, chin resting on one knee, her other leg swinging carelessly like a child as she watched him. He liked that she wanted every intimacy with him, not just the ones that had to do with sex. That was new for him. Overwhelming in some ways. It had taken time to get used to, but he liked how it made him feel. Little threads binding them more tightly together with every detail discovered and shared. And Christ, those little green panties were killing him. Her mischievous gaze was even better.

There were days he missed her brown eyes.

Today was not one of them.

It was close and intimate, this exchange of little details.

Logan had a routine, the same every time. Shower first. Hair toweled after until it was wild and stuck up at odd angles despite the growing length. Towel wrapped around his lean waist while he slid the whiskey box open and removed the tin of shaving soap and his badger hair brush. He used a modern razor now, but he'd never quite been able to give up the little tin with its flat disk of soap that smelled strongly of cedar and the soft brush for applying it. The scent was familiar and comforting as he wet the brush and swirled it, dabbing it on her nose before using it on himself.

Cheeks first. Then neck. Chin and lips last. The soap smelled better than it tasted. The idea that he'd probably been shaving this same way for a century amused him. The movements calmed him, made him feel at peace. They were easy. Familiar. Comfortable. A pattern worn into his brain over decades.

He shaved his neck first and around his chin and mouth last. Every time. Always the same.

He liked it better when she watched.

It gave him a chance to study her too. Learn some of her little details. She usually watched his hands, not his eyes or his body, though she occasionally stole a look or two if his towel slipped. Her expression sometimes followed his as he pulled his mouth left and right to make the skin smooth as he worked. She was given to asking random questions at this time, almost more than at any other. He liked it. He could never quite tell where her grasshopper brain would settle. The questions were sometime sexual, but always intimate and personal.

_Do you always sleep on your back? Sunrise or sunset? Does it bother you that I've been with a woman? Turn you on? Have you ever been with a man? Did you like it? What makes you a breast-man over, say, a leg-man or a butt-man? Do you believe in God? Was there a time you ever did? Will you let me shave you? How about if I let you shave me first? Yes, there. Does that do it for you, sugar? Tea or coffee? Boxers or briefs? Boxer-briefs? Which do you like more, giving oral or getting it? Do you ever dream about your daughter? Tell me about your wedding... Did you ever get to feel Kaya kick against your palm? How did it feel to make love with a child between you? Did fatherhood change how you saw the world? Who's your pick for the Stanley Cup this year...?_

Once he'd gotten used to it, it became one of his favorite little rituals. It was more than that too. More than just a glimpse into her head. It was physical details as well. Marie might not own much in the way of worldly goods and she wasn't a clothes horse by any stretch of the imagination, but damned if that girl didn't have a taste for luxury lingerie; bras and panties, mostly. Usually matching sets, satin more often than lace, and deep vivid colors; plum, olive, forest, lemon, cobalt, atomic orange, chocolate, blush. She was just as likely to go commando, which he also appreciated, but he'd liked the way her eyes had glowed when he'd asked her about it.

She hadn't been shy or hesitant. Instead she'd surprised him, talking about it the way he spoke about a really fine cigar. With satisfaction. How her skin was so sensitive now. That the feel of fine satin and lace against it made her smile. How she wore those things for herself. That she liked the way they felt physically, and the way they made her feel emotionally, and that nobody who looked at her would ever imagine a girl like her wore things like _that_ under her clothes.

He wasn't too sure about that last one. But it might be that his imagination was just better, and dirtier, than most.

She'd placed an online order with overnight shipping and had it sent to their hotel room the last time they'd holed up for a few nights at the same place. Logan was floored. Three grand for a little bag of clothes small enough to hang from his finger? Brands he'd never heard of. Bordelle. Agent Provocateur. La Perla. It was her money, but Jesus. He didn't get it and she didn't even bother trying to explain it to him beyond saying they made her feel pretty. He liked how she owned that. Unruffled and more than a little cocky. How she wasn't guilty over or embarrassed about her self-proclaimed vice. It spoke to the brazen, carefree way she satisfied other appetites. Food. Sex. Pleasure. He could attest to all of them. She was a lioness, in bed and out.

He liked her best naked with just his scent drying on her gorgeous tattoo so he kept his mouth shut about her little habit.

Still, they looked damned good. He'd give her that. The green set was his favorite. Her ass looked amazing in those and he had no idea how something that was barely a breath of gossamer and air could hold up her breasts that way, much less show them off... but goddamn, he approved.

She shifted, lowering her leg to swing in tandem with the other. His eyes slid from her breasts to her flat little belly and the ribbon of lacy green visible below.

"Shit."

He'd nicked himself again.

She giggled, pushing down the urge to lean in and lick the soapy red drip from his neck.

"Logan?"

"Hmm...?"

"Have you ever grown your beard all the way out?"

"Sure. Lotsa times. I liketa go fallow between jobs. I'm a lazy sonofabitch."

That made her laugh harder. "Really?"

"Yeah. That and I catch a lot of assignments for places where the majority of the male population wears a full beard. You know the rule there. The better you fit in, the less memorable you are."

"Sugar, full beard or not, I'm telling you that you don't go unnoticed by the majority of the female population, and probably by a good percentage of the men who swing the other way as well."

"Hmph." That was his amused grunt.

"Have you ever shaved all of it off?"

"Not a lot of call for the pretty-boy look in my line of work, but a time or two. Sure."

"Hmm..."

He met her eyes.

"Why? You curious?" Wiping the last of the foam from his face, he threw down the towel and slid his hand up the silky skin on the inside of her thigh before cupping her crotch through those sexy green panties. "You wanna feel my jaw all smooth..." he slipped two fingers under the edge to touch her soft folds. "Right here between these pretty thighs?"

Her eyes were wide but she shook her head.

"No?"

"No way, cowboy. I like your five o'clock shadow too much. Beard burn makes me shiver."

"Heh." He knew. "So that's a 'No' on the shavin' it all off?" he teased.

"Hmm... I wouldn't say that, sugar."

"Mmph." That surprised him.

"Why don't you ask me again in a few years."

He chuckled.

"Will do."

She noticed his hand had slid out from under her panties to trail up and down her flat stomach lazily. He hadn't said anything, but she knew he was imagining her belly round and full. Not a replacement for the child he lost, but because the experience was so profound it was worth having again, despite the pain.

"Logan?"

His eyes came up to hers. She could see everything there, all the things he couldn't and wouldn't say.

Her hand covered his. There were things she couldn't say yet either.

He touched his forehead to hers.

The shared moment was acknowledged and passed into something else. Something lighter.

He stopped her at the edge of the bed as they bent to lay down together and he stroked her belly again, just once, with purpose.

"Not soon, but someday."

"Someday. I'm not ready to share you just yet, sugar."

He remembered the night not so long ago that he'd said the same thing to her and his eyes stung unexpectedly, still awed that someone could want him like that, flaws and all.

Her hand found his and she twined their fingers and pulled him close.

"All of you and all of me."

Soft words, spoken right from the heart.

Like a promise.

Or a vow.

* * *

Up next: **The Decision**. Logan and Marie need to decide where to go from here. A choice is made, but both of them are worried about stirring old ghosts...


	35. The Decision

They were sitting in a booth at the Forget-Me-Not Diner, sipping strong hot coffee and waiting for their breakfast to come. They'd spent the last two weeks in and around Banff, staying in different places as the spirit moved them. They had the map in front of them this morning, talking about where they might want to head next.

"We gotta make a decision, kid. West to the ocean or north. What do you wanna do?"

"Well, I've always thought it would be kinda fun to catch the ferry and go by boat to Prince Rupert and then drive to Juneau and take the AlCan to Anchorage."

"Sounds good."

There was something there in his eyes that made Marie press a little.

"But?"

"But if we keep on goin' west like we are, we're gonna miss the last road up to Alkali Lake."

"Hmm..."

"I kinda thought you might wanna make a stop there."

She was silent for a moment while the waitress delivered their food; a massive steak and eggs for Logan and waffles with whipped cream and fruit for her. Double sides of bacon for both of them. "I do. I just wasn't sure how you felt about it."

"I wanna go there with you." They'd been rewriting history as they moved west. That was a big one for both of them.

"Me too. With you." She took his hand in hers. "You sure? Jean died there." She understood why he'd chosen Jean over her, but it still hurt. She'd left the pain of that buried deep a long time now.

He nodded. "So did Scott."

Marie wondered what that cost him to say. They never talked about Scott anymore, and he'd reclaimed that part of her for himself that night when he'd burned out that old memory, but she knew his disdain would never really go away. He was too possessive for that, even now that he could acknowledge that it was his choices that ultimately led to her decision to be intimate with Scott.

"Yes," she said softly.

"We could drive up to Alkali now and then maybe up to Prince George and Whitehorse and then catch the AlCan up from there. Do the ferry thing on the way back down."

"I'd like that a lot." Emotion rose sharply and she found it suddenly hard to get the words out. Alkali Lake had been a watershed for all of them. Nothing had been the same ever again.

It was doubly so for Logan, who'd been having nightmares about the horrors visited upon him there for thirty years. He'd lost himself there. He'd lost Jean there. They'd lost Scott there, too. It had seen the birth of the Wolverine and of the Phoenix.

It had only ever been a place of suffering.

Maybe the both needed to make their peace with that place. Maybe they both needed to say goodbye.

To let go.

To cut away the stones they'd both been holding onto for so long.

**~ooOoo~**

Logan was quiet when he came back with the food. More thoughtful than moody. They were less talkative than usual throughout dinner as they passed the red and white take-out cartons back and forth across the cabin's coffee table. He picked out and ate all the spicy red pepper pods without a shred of guilt, even though he knew they were her favorite.

Afterwards, they reclined back on pillows before the fire, still barely talking. Sometimes it was nice to just enjoy the quiet and he was glad she wasn't one of those people who had to fill every silence with words. It wasn't awkward, just comfortable. He'd never had that before. Someone with whom he could just be himself, all of himself. Even the parts nobody else wanted.

The room smelled strongly of pungent Szechwan beef and spring rolls. Marie sipped the last dregs of her tea. He was working on a beer. His mouth was still tingling from the lingering heat of the peppers. Neither of them touched their fortune cookies. It was so quiet he could hear her breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.

The rhythm was too slow for his racing mind to want to follow as it turned over the prospect of revisiting Alkali Lake with Marie. That led to thoughts of Jean and Scott and Stryker. He had plenty of his own history there, too. Images of the fluid-filled tank and men with champagne, celebrating as his body burned. Some days he could still taste the scent of his flesh burning as they injected him with liquid metal.

Unsettled and on the edge of losing himself in the emotional storm inside him, he fought harder to quiet all of the wild feelings stirring within him, aware he'd needed this trip for too long, but unable now to overcome the rising tide welling up in him. Despite his primal nature, he was rarely out of control. He didn't like the feeling. It made him want to dominate something, to ride it hard and spend himself in the mastery of it... conversely, it also sharpened his need into an intense longing for a soft place to fall; to curl up and hide someplace safe from the world.

He reached for her, still struggling to control what he was feeling. She tasted sweet, like sesame and plums when he kissed her. When he broke the kiss she touched her lips, flushing as her fingertips moved from her mouth to his.

_The peppers._

"Tingles," she whispered.

"Good."

He kissed her again, shoving the floor pillows out of the way as he rolled her under him and moved to cover her with his big body. It wasn't soft or sweet or nice. It was intense and excruciatingly tender. He swept his tongue into her mouth, kissing and sucking and biting until she pulled away, gasping at the fiery heat.

"Too hot!"

If he hadn't been so focused... and so on edge, he might have smiled against her throat as his mouth slipped down her neck. She liked a little heat- but he'd been eating five stars since she was in diapers, and probably several decades before that.

Nipping at that spot behind her ear he knew drove her wild, he fought down a surge of an entirely different kind of heat. It didn't stay down long, however, as their legs entwined and she rubbed against his thickening erection. The heat returned, wilder than before, rising up to engulf him. He drove her passion before him, wanting to make her come again and again until she was boneless; his way of atoning for what he really wanted from her in the end. He knew it was almost not right... it was too indulgent... too... selfish. And yet despite the guilt, he still didn't stop.

He wasn't particularly gentle. There was too much heat rising in him for that and too much of his strength was going to holding himself back to make it just about her. It wasn't soft, but it was intense and full of all the emotions that used to scare the shit out of him. And when he was finished and she lay there with her green wrap dress flipped up, her body still fluttering around the thick penis buried deep inside her as she fought for breath and consciousness, he hoped what he'd just given her would be enough.

Marie knew what he was doing. They might be new lovers, but he only ever pushed her like that when he wanted something particular from her when it was over. Something he felt guilty about no matter how many times she'd tried to reassure him. She particularly liked that kind of sex... it was excruciatingly intimate, and with the weight of the coming trip to Alkali pressing down heavily on them both, she craved the intimacy and closeness she knew it would bring.

He always began the same way... like he was trying to make up for it by giving her more pleasure than she could stand first, and he was skilled enough to manipulate her body into it even if she resisted. She didn't. She wanted all of him. Every last bit. He'd played her body like the finest instrument, drawing pleasure from her when she'd thought she was incapable of climaxing again and even forcing it on her when she had been beyond resisting. She'd lost count of the times he'd made her come... with his fingers... his voice... his mouth... his cock.

Sweaty and dazed, she stared up at his flushed face. His jaw was tense and his lips had thinned to a grimace with the effort of holding back the tide of his own passion. He hadn't yet come. He withdrew smoothly, so far gone that he was unable to enjoy the way her small hands clutched at him as they tried to keep him from pulling out too fast. As he moved back to a crouch before her, she saw the damp matted hair of his groin and the rudely erotic jut of his heavy cock as it shone wetly in the firelight.

He sat back into the leather armchair and opened his legs. A thick column of distended flesh rose crudely from between his thighs, visibly throbbing with every beat of his strong heart. His fist was wrapped around the tip, squeezing roughly. His whole body shook with the need for stimulation now that he'd left the slick haven of her body. She moved closer, on her knees before him and he brushed the wet tip across her full bottom lip.

"Please..." It was the first coherent word he'd uttered in more than an hour.

And it still wasn't what he really wanted... but it would come in time, after he'd tortured himself long enough with this atonement. Dropping his hands, he let her take control, panting through the strong urge to come as she kissed and sucked. He liked the affection in the way she touched him, but aroused as he was, he also wanted the hardcore images now that passion had burned away the last shreds of propriety. She gave it to him, sucking lewdly, rubbing him against her cheeks and chin and lips in a graphic display. She rooted at his groin, breathing in the heavy musk and mouthing his scrotum before rolling it gently in her long fingers. Fluttering her tongue on his tip, she teased him until he was shuddering and weeping a steady stream over her tongue.

And then, finally, he took what he wanted at last.

He rose swiftly, roughly enough to make her lose her balance and fall back before him. She scrambled back to her knees as quickly as her exhausted, pleasure-soaked body could go, acutely aware of exactly what he wanted. Her hands dropped away and his came up to twine in her long dark hair as he held her still - passive - and then he began to move, pumping his hips as his hands cradled the back of her head, holding her exactly where he wanted. He tried as he always did to control the wildness as he watched his wet length slip between her red lips again and again... but it was more intense tonight than ever before. Sweat trickled down his spine. Her eyes watered. Now and again she could feel the soft rasp of his hair against her lips. Her throat felt raw. His harsh pants became low deep grunts, rude and animalistic for all their softness.

That part never lasted long. Just a few agonizing moments and then he was coming, curling over her and cradling her head into him as he shuddered through those one or two wild bruising thrusts that he was helpless to control. He was large and that was a little uncomfortable... but she imagined it was no more difficult for her than what he'd experienced earlier, denying himself release while she came on his tender throbbing flesh, again and again. And to be honest, she'd always dreamed of having him that way, wild and out of control. He'd never given this to anyone else.

He pulsed. She swallowed. It was rude and messy and achingly intimate. There were tears in his eyes when he was finished.

Wiping away the stray splatters of semen from her face with his thumb, he brought it to his own mouth before blindly searching for hers as they crumpled to the carpet in a sweaty tangled heap. The needy kiss ended and they collapsed into each other's arms where he hid his face in her neck the way he always did afterwards. His breathing slowed and the tension eased, not gone but better. The rough pad of his thumb gently caressed her cheek. Her hand rubbed up and down his back soothingly as they lay together in the darkness.

He felt like he should say he was sorry for needing that, but he wasn't. Not really. And it upset her when he tried. He knew if she thought he felt it was wrong, it made her feel bad for liking it. And there was something about it that fulfilled a need she had too. One he didn't understand but was profoundly grateful for. He wasn't sure she understood it either. She was shy about it and never came right out and asked him for it, but her scent afterwards was always so good, so satisfied and thick with contentment. More so than usual. He wondered about that, but they had eternity to unravel the mystery of each other. He was in no hurry for that particular answer.

She seemed more inclined to talk afterwards, in that twilight place between satiety and sleep. It was usually only a few minutes, but she was especially open to him then. Most of her deeply intimate confessions had come in those moments. His too, to tell the truth. Things they would never utter except tangled together in the dark, so close they were more one consciousness than two.

His head rested on her soft breast. Her fingers stroked the sweaty skin of his back.

"Logan?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you scared about tomorrow?"

"About Alkali Lake?"

"About what we might find there, stirring those ghosts."

He sighed softly. The base was gone. Destroyed under tons of rushing water. He understood she meant emotional discovery.

"Yeah. Some." Big bad Wolverine was afraid. He could admit it. But only to her. And only now, at moments like this.

"Me, too."

"You still wanna go?" He felt her nod and the rhythm of her fingertips on his skin changed. Slowed a little. He could tell she was thinking deeply. "Darlin'?"

"Just thinking about Tibet, sugar."

He wasn't surprised by the abrupt mental shift. Her brain was unusual and prone to making lateral grasshopper jumps that made sense to her but that he didn't usually follow until she explained the tenuous connection.

They didn't talk a lot about her time in Tibet. He understood it was for her what the time in the fluid-filled tank had been for him. A cornerstone. Not an especially pleasant experience, but the making of something deeply central to her sense of self.

"Hmm..." he left it open, for her to fill in as much or as little as she wanted.

"I was thinking about something I read there that really stuck with me." He felt her chest rise and fall. "It's the idea that personal discovery and growth come from letting there be room for all things to happen. Grief. Relief. Misery. Joy."

"Sounds right."

"I think it's more than right. I think it's necessary. It's from Pema Chödrön's teachings. She believes you have to let the hard things in life break you. Let them affect you. Let them change you. That you have to let those hard moments inform you, and that you have to let pain be your teacher." She felt him tense under her fingertips but continued. "It's the belief that the experiences of your life are trying to tell you something about yourself and that we shouldn't, you know, cop out on that or run away or hide from it. That we should lean into it instead."

"Deep thoughts," he said softly. It was too much to process at once. He didn't want to offend her by giving a flippant, half formed reply to something that was clearly important to her. It was the kind of subject that required a while to work through. He wanted to give it the time it deserved.

"I want to lean into you." Her breath was soft against his skin. "I think Alkali Lake is going to be hard. I want us to lean into it together."

He understood the lateral jump now.

"I wanna lean into you too, kid. I've wanted that since before the lily pond." He didn't need time to come to that realization. She had always been his soft place to fall.

Confessions. He made them too. Not often. But when he did, they were profound.

"Really?"

"Really. I was just afraid I'd break you," he added softly. "You needed some miles on ya first."

She didn't say anything but she hugged him close and he could smell her tears.

He was surprised when he felt her gentle touch between his legs. She took his soft, spent penis in her hand and stroked him hard.

"You wanna go again, darlin'?" He didn't think so. They were both spent. Physically able, but emotionally drained.

"No." She pushed him to his back and moved over him, sinking down on him slowly before pressing her whole body to his and resting her head on his wide chest. His heart beat strong and steady in her ear. He could still feel the little aftershocks of her pleasure ripple against his sensitive flesh. "I want to hold you all over. Wrap you up in me and hold as much of you as I can while we fall asleep."

He had no words. A sound rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating it against her. She hummed back to him and held him tighter as her eyes closed.

The Wolverine smiled into the darkness. His mate was strong and wise.

The Rogue smiled back.

Replete.

**~ooOoo~**

They were in the parking lot of a large sporting goods store. Marie wondered how many interesting trips had started from this place. Today it was gray and cold. The salt and heavy traffic had turned the pretty snow to dirty gray slush. She liked it better when they stayed out of the bigger towns, but they'd needed to stock up on some provisions before heading up to Alkali Lake.

They were going to need to hike in the last few miles. The truck wouldn't make it in the snow and they wanted to stay overnight. They'd bought a small sturdy tent rated for the cold, two subzero sleeping bags, rated down to -20 below, two hiking packs, some overpriced, yuppie, gourmet freeze-dried food and some energy bars. Neither of them were big fans of MREs. The bloom was definitely off that rose. The idea of revisiting places in their past and rewriting their history was romantic, but they were both pragmatic. It was January in Canada. Winter was in full swing and really the only snowflakes that this Southern girl wanted touching her skin were the kind that Logan had hung from the ceiling.

They were both quiet on the long drive. It was early afternoon when they reached the last little outcropping of civilization before Alkali Lake. They stopped for gas and to grab some food. Logan looked at her over his pie.

"S'too late to head out now. We won't make it by dark and it's too dangerous to hike it in at night."

"Pfff. Too cold, you mean. Since when do you let a little danger stop you?"

He chuckled, but it was fleeting. He was keyed up. Anxious about getting there and even at this distance, he could feel the emotional weight of the place pressing down on him. It was not a good feeling. Marie was antsy too. Fidgeting a little where she was usually still.

"How far is it from here?"

"A couple hours up the road there's a place where we can leave the truck. It's another twelve or so clicks on foot after that." He grunted. That had been a long walk last time with just his small backpack. Now he had a bigger pack and a travelling companion. That part was nice, but he knew they weren't going to make great time. Nobody could move through the forest the way he could. "You wanna get a room here for the night? Head out early? I wanna get there in enough time to set up camp before it gets dark." While he liked the cold, he didn't like being that damned cold. He had too much metal in him. His Mississippi girl wasn't a big fan of the cold either.

"There's another option."

He looked up. "Oh?"

"Why walk when we can fly? It's not first class and there's no peanuts, but I'll letcha feel up the pilot." She flushed slightly. They never really talked about her flying. She didn't know if it was because he didn't like flying in general or if it made him feel weird that she could. "Twelve clicks is nothing. Not even ten minutes."

"You can really do that?"

"Sugar, if I hustled, I could do it in less than five. Carrying the truck, too." She could probably do it carrying a tank, but she didn't say so. It felt weird enough already.

"Goddamn."

"Yeah."

His eyes flashed golden for a moment and she realized it was the Wolverine's pride in the strength of the mate he'd chosen that she was seeing. That made her feel good.

"So you wanna?"

Her whole face lit up.

"I wanna."

* * *

Up next: **The Flight**. Logan has given Marie all of the Wolverine. Now he wants all of the Rogue in return.


	36. The Flight

Logan watched with curiosity as Marie dug a brush from her bag and pulled back her hair into a long ponytail. She wasn't generally the primping sort.

"Kid?"

"Keeps it out of my face," she tossed back, digging her flight jacket out from behind the seat. It was the green and orange nylon one with the patch that always made him smile. _Don't Eat Yellow Snow._

"Heh."

"I know, right?" She added a scarf around her neck and then zipped it up before pulling on her gloves and hat.

Logan had parked the truck off the road in the trees and they were preparing their gear; two full packs with sleeping bags for each of them. The rest of their provisions were split between them. Marie shoved her small bag into the top of her pack and flipped the flap down before cinching it up.

She looked him over. "If you have a hat you're gonna want it. Gloves too."

He pulled a knitted black cap from his pack and put it on, pulling it down to cover his ears and then slipped his hands into his leather gloves, holding them to his nose after he did just to watch her blush. They still smelled faintly of her most intimate scent. Now that he'd worked out that she came harder when her skin was on, he made a point to make love to her that way too.

"So, how's this gonna work?"

"Hmm... I think maybe from behind?"

He chuckled. "Isn't that my line?"

She rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, cowboy."

"Yeah," he said with a wide, dirty grin.

The verbal sparring was a way for them both to bleed off some of the underlying anxiety as the coming experience of Alkali Lake loomed closer.

"I think it'll work best if you hold a pack in each hand and I put my arms around you from the back."

"Sure." Logan gathered the packs, wrapping his fist around the handle at the top of each.

"Not too heavy?"

"Hmph."

He gave her a withering look and she laughed and punched his shoulder. "Fine, tough guy." She pushed her aviator shades on her face and stepped closer and he laughed. "What?"

"Nothin', Maverick."

She threw back her head and laughed. "You know that makes you Goose, right?"

He snorted. "Nah, makes me the hot blonde with the nice rack."

"Logan!"

"Heh." He gave her a look. "We're lovers, darlin'. Partners? Yeah. Friends? Yeah. But lovers first."

Her brows knitted together in what he thought of as her thinking face. "I like that," she said after a while. "I have other friends. But only one lover. There's only one you."

He didn't smile but his eyes were fierce and glowing. He kissed her hard and then turned her loose. "Yep, so don't fuckin' drop me."

"Never." She giggled in his ear and stepped up behind him. His body responded to her nearness, like it always did. Not with a full rush of blood, but with that tingle of awareness when a new lover comes close. It felt warm and good. His stomach tightened as she slid her hands along his sides and up under his arms before locking her hands together at the front of his powerful chest.

"So?"

She could feel the tension in him. He really wasn't looking forward to this.

"Relax. Breathe out when I push off and we rise. It'll help. I'll take it nice and easy, but if you bear down and tighten up the muscles in your midsection, that will help counteract the Gs."

He nodded. "Hey, this ain't my first rodeo." Granted it was the first time not in an aircraft of some sort, but the theory was the same. The retort was humorous, but Marie could feel the tension in his body as she gathered herself and prepared to push off. She knew he could feel it, attuned to her as he was.

"Above the tree line or below?"

"Does it matter?" he said tightly.

"Sure. Below the tree line, we're less visible but the vertigo is worse. More bugs, too. Above, it's better but anyone can see us."

"Above," he grunted. "There ain't anyone but ghosts here anymore."

"Sure. Ready?" She waited for his nod and pushed off. They rose quickly. Marie smiled as they emerged above the trees and she felt the heat of the sun on her face through the cold wind.

"You said breathe out, woman."

"You did. I felt it. Did it not help?"

"I did. You didn't."

"Oh." That made her smile wider as the trees sped in a blur under them. "Sugar, I was always that girl who had her hands up on the rollercoaster the whole time." She felt his grunt of amusement. "What do you think I do at night when I go outside to give you space to meditate?"

He was a little surprised. He kind of thought she sat on the porch with a cup of coffee most nights. They didn't talk much about her flying and he hadn't realized she liked doing it. _Really_ liked it.

He tried to appreciate the experience but his stomach was protesting. A man with this much metal in him was never meant for the heavens. It wasn't so bad if he looked at the horizon and not the trees rushing under him with sickening speed. It was better when she twined one leg around his to lock him to her as they leveled out horizontally.

"How's this compare to your top speed?" He knew her too well. She always had to find the boundaries of everything. She'd know her limits.

"Hmm..." he could tell she was hesitant to tell him.

"Spill it, kid."

"Let's compare it to riding a bike. Imagine top speed as one of those crotch rockets that annoy you so much."

Another grunt.

"All flash, no substance." He preferred the heft of a touring bike. Less speed, more power.

"So if that's where I top out, this is like... a four year old on a bike with training wheels."

He whistled softly and then used his head to nudge her chin over toward the west. "There..."

She saw it. In the distance there was the glimmer of a lake through the trees. Steep ravines and snow swept craggy ridges passed by with alarming speed. Logan fought to keep from closing his eyes.

As the lake loomed closer, Marie's eyes swept the terrain below and she smiled as she saw a keyhole formation in the cliff face where a chunk of rock had fallen and caught on the way down. Her lips twitched. "Wanna thread the needle?"

"Christ, no." She felt him shudder. "Would you? If you were alone?"

He could feel the excitement ripple through her.

"Oh yeah."

"Heh." He took a deep breath and let out as they drew closer to the shore of the lake, thoughts spinning through his head as fast as the ground rushing under them. "Hey, kid?"

"Yeah?"

"I wanna."

"Wanna what?"

"Shoot the moon."

"The needle? Really? Why?"

"To lean into it. Like you said." To embrace all of it, even the things that scared him. She was right about that. He wanted that, with her. Now. Before Alkali Lake.

Her whole body warmed.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

He could feel her smile even if he couldn't see it. She held him tighter, more intimately.

"We need to jettison the cargo first. You wanna drop it by the shore if I swing us low enough?" The snow would soften the fall. He nodded and she brought them closer.

"Bombs away." The packs dropped easily into the soft snow and they gained altitude again. He covered her hands with his and squeezed gently.

"You ever do this before? Fly with someone?" He felt her nod but she didn't elaborate. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Somehow he didn't think it was with Jubilee.

"Once."

"And no one died?" His voice was bone dry.

She snorted in amusement. "Not yet, but the day is young..."

"Great."

They flew closer to the craggy, windswept rocks. The trees loomed in sickeningly and Logan couldn't quite believe he'd agreed to this. As the keyhole got closer, he could see he'd misjudged the size. It was a few meters at best. Despite his best efforts to be completely present and force himself to experience the moment, he still closed his eyes as she shot them through the stone arch.

Her cry of sheer exhilaration as they rocketed through made him smile despite the uncomfortable lurch in his stomach. Her laughter was pure joy as they evened out and curved back toward the lake. It made him feel good to hear it.

"More," he growled, caught up in her enjoyment of the moment.

"How much more?"

"All you got, baby. I wanna feel what you feel. I gave you all of the Wolverine. I want all of the Rogue." He could feel her excitement, the thrill of sharing this deeply private thing with her lover.

She said, "Hang on."

He said, "Oh, fuck!" But it came out on a clipped laugh. The lake was getting closer. "Now what...?"

"Now we turn and burn, sugar."

He could feel the acceleration. They shot forward, turning and rolling; tight corkscrews and arcing barrel rolls. He groaned, but kept his eyes open as the horizon spun and spun. She liked to fly upside down. He was so disoriented, he couldn't even tell which way was up when she finished. They leveled out and she really turned on the speed.

The world started to go a little fuzzy around the edges.

"Bear down." She squeezed him tighter as they rocketed across the lake low enough and fast enough that Logan could see they'd kicked up a rooster tail of water behind them. It was scary as fuck but one hell of a rush.

"More," he shouted. The wind whipped away his words but she could feel the urging of his body. She banked hard and they shot upwards with frightening speed, beginning to climb at a steep angle. He could really feel the Gs now and wondered if they were more pronounced in his body because of the metal.

He was a little alarmed when they began to be buffeted pretty violently and he realized they were moments from breaking the sound barrier. The crashed through with a silent boom and everything became so much more fluid. Smooth. Silent. Supersonic. They climbed higher. It grew colder and the air began to thin. They slowed, a little at first and then a lot.

"Trust me?"

He could only nod.

The acceleration stopped and for a heart-stopping moment, they hung suspended before the freefall began, her body wrapped tightly around his as they spun back to earth. His body recognized the feeling. This wasn't his first air drop, but it was the first one with no plane and no ripcord to pull as the ground rushed up under them. He felt a little like Buck Rogers, spinning and spinning...

His heart lodged somewhere in his throat, a growl of pure adrenaline torn from him as they fell. Instead of the rough jerk he'd was accustomed to as a parachute deployed, she slowed their descent by degrees, smoothly with confidence and more grace than he imagined could be possible without actual wings. She was amazing.

They leveled off and she made one last, slow pass over the glittering water before they circled back around to where he'd dropped the packs. His legs were shaking as they rejoined the earth.

Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her eyes were bright and sparkling. His were gold and more than a little wild as he pulled her close and kissed her hard.

"Holy fuck," he panted as they parted.

"Good?"

"Hell yeah. Goddamn." He grabbed her hand and pressed it just under his buckle. He was rock hard. Logan could barely form a coherent thought in the wake of that experience.

"It happens to pilots sometimes. It's the rush." Her memories of Scott told her he'd felt the exhilaration like that as well. There were times pushing the Blackbird through the sky with his hair on fire had given him a hard-on too.

"That's a helluva thing, darlin'."

"It is." She was sort of smug and embarrassed.

"Thanks."

"For not dropping you?"

"For sharin' that piece of yourself with me. You're amazin', kid. Blew my fuckin' mind."

She flushed with pleasure.

"Thanks for wanting it."

"Always." He pulled her closer. "How'd it work out the last time?"

"You really want to know?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

Marie grinned. "He threw up."

Logan wondered who it had been. Remy? Bobby? Hank? His money was on the Cajun. He was just glad that it had ended that way instead of with a membership to the mile high club. The thought made him chuckle.

"What?"

"Just thinkin' about the mile high club, baby."

She gave his erection one last squeeze and winked at him. "You definitely have potential, sugar. Maybe we should put a pin in this one too, huh?"

"Oh yeah."

She laughed and pulled a protein bar from her pocket. Logan was surprised to see her eat the entire thing in two bites. "Mmm..." He was even more surprised when she pulled out a second one and ate that too, slower than the first but still faster than usual.

"Takes somethin' out of you to that, huh?"

"Mmff." She swallowed. "Yeah. Something synergistic happens between our mutations. I wouldn't be able to do so much so fast without your mutation replenishing what Carol's takes out. She could fly but not like _that_. I have to eat after or I get pretty sick, though."

"You shouldnta-"

"Totally worth it." She unwrapped the third bar.

He shook his head. "How many more of those do you have in there, kid?"

"Two. And a Red Bull to wash it all down."

"Heh. And they say I'm an animal."

She rolled her eyes. "So, you liked it, huh?"

"Roger that, Mav."

That earned him a laugh.

"Even the arch?"

He just shook his head in amusement. "I dunno about that one, kid. It's a good thing I'm a Wolverine. If I was a squid, I'd have inked myself."

Her giggle turned into a full belly laugh. God, he loved that sound.

"Great. Now I want calamari."

"Heh. You know there's a really good tentacle joke in there somewhere..." he said, picking up his pack before dusting the snow from hers.

His smile was just a little too bright and they both knew the tension they'd been avoiding was beginning to seep back in.

Marie hefted her pack and squeezed his hand, just once.

"Ready, kid?"

She nodded.

"Ready, sugar."

* * *

Up next: **The Lake**. Fire. Snow. Adamantium. Old ghosts speak. Marie and Logan struggle with an emotional ground zero.


	37. The Lake

**[The Lake]**

_I never opened myself this way_   
_Life is ours, we live it our way_   
_All these words I don't just say_   
_And nothing else matters_

They were silent as they set up camp by the shore of the lake. The grandeur around them was deceptive. It was beautiful, but cold in a way that had nothing to do with ice and snow. There was so much pain here. Death and loss and heartache. It was a sad place.

Marie put up the small tent, her insides settling a little as she zipped their two sleeping bags together. Outside, Logan built a fire and gathered a massive pile of wood to last the night. Fire was warmth and safety... and the truth was, he still didn't like this place and wanted something to burn away the coming shadows.

When she was finished getting their things settled inside the tent she found him standing at the rocky shore, staring out over the water. It looked so different now. The crumbling edges of the old dam were all that was left of the installation that once dominated this wild place. Everything was underwater now. The lake sparkled in the sun. It was still and quiet. It smelled alpine, of crisp air that carried the scent of snow and evergreens under the pitch and smoke from the fire. It popped and sputtered at their back as the wind whipped the loose tendrils of her hair back from her face. She could hear the creak of wind in the trees and the gentle rhythmic slapping of the water against the shore. One could almost imagine it was a peaceful place if you were unaware of the dark history tainting the pristine beauty.

"What was it like?" Her voice was soft.

"Which time?"

The first time when they put the metal in him? _Bubbles in a tank of pain. Screaming into a respirator. Three distinctive cuts gouging the cold concrete as he escaped. Rage. Terror._

The time he came back alone following the Professor's lead? _A lone wolf. A rabbit warren of cover-ups and lies. Frustration._

The time Jean died? _A look exchanged. Tags ripped away. A past, lost. A life, lost. Failure. Grief._

The time they found the Phoenix? _Red shades, floating. A body on the rocks, not broken. At rest. Like Sleeping Beauty, like Snow White after the apple. Like a fairytale come to life. Elation. Guilt._

So much guilt.

"You know which one." There was only one time they hadn't yet talked about. "What was it like when you found her?" He never looked away from the water but his hand found hers.

"Wrong."

"Wrong?"

"It felt... wrong here. Smelled wrong, too. Fuckin' bad juju. I could feel it walkin' down outta the plane. It was foggy as hell. Oppressive. Electric, like that moment before lightnin' strikes. But heavy, too. Like a blanket smotherin' ya. Pressin' in from all around. 'Ro felt it too."

Marie felt a ripple inside her. Power stirring.

"She took carea the fog. I thought seein' would make things better, but it was worse after. So much worse. Shit was floatin' all around us, like bubbles. But not movin' with the wind. Not controlled exactly, but not really random, either. Rocks, sticks, leaves, droplets of water. Anythin' not nailed down."

She squeezed his hand, but let him talk uninterrupted.

"That shit ain't right. You could feel the bad; could feel the power all around. And then this pair of red shades floated by me and I knew-" his voice hitched, but not with pain. With guilt. "I knew right then." He was silent long minutes. "I knew and part of me felt bad... but a bigger part was glad 'cause I was thinkin' I finally had a shot at her with him gone."

It was an ugly truth.

They both winced.

"The Professor told us before we left that he'd felt her 'emerge'. That was the word he used. Emerge. I didn't get it then- but I do now. I don't think he felt Scott die. He felt her wakin' up. That's what rattled him so damn bad."

"I loved Charles, but I'm not surprised he sent _you_ after her. He always could make the hard decisions."

He grunted at that.

"'Ro and me, we knew somethin' real bad had happened here but before I could even wrap my head around it, she was yellin' my name and I was runnin' over to where 'Ro'd found her lyin' on the rocks." He didn't say they found Jean on the rocks because they both knew that wasn't true. It had never really been Jean. Not since the moment she'd disappeared under the rushing water as she lifted the Blackbird to safety. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Her hair was so red, like fire on the rocks. Different than before. It's weird what you remember, right? She was breathin' and all I could think was that she was alive and I was glad it was me and not him who'd been the one to find her." His jaw clenched. "That's the kinda person I am, kid."

"That's the kind of person you _were_." Her hand was strong in his. "We both needed some miles, sugar."

He grunted again.

They started walking. It seemed like a random path but her feet found a smooth, windswept outcropping of stone that overlooked the water too easily for it to have been completely by chance. Something had pulled her to this place.

Inside her, the Phoenix shuddered and woke, drawn by the lingering energy of this sad place.

"It was here."

"What was?" He wasn't following.

"He found her here."

Logan looked at Marie sharply. There was no way she could know that. Even if she had Scott in her head; hell, even if she had _Jean_ in her head- that touch had happened before Scott had died here.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.

"Kid?"

Logan shuddered as he watched her face change. Her pupils expanded until her eyes were solid black and then brilliant irises the color of flames emerged.

Jean's eyes.

No, the Phoenix's eyes.

That rocked him back and Marie's words came to him. She'd been scared of stirring the old ghosts. Logan started to shake. Marie carried the ghosts within her. He should have thought of that before bringing her here. No wonder she'd been apprehensive. No wonder she thought this would be hard. He was a damned fool.

"It was here," she said again in a voice not quite her own.

"Kid?" Logan grabbed her arms and shook her. "Marie!" he said sharply, feeling a hot stick of fear. "You leave her alone!" He spoke to the frightening creature who had Marie in her grasp. There was no titillation for him there anymore. Not after what he'd seen her do on Alcatraz. Not after what she'd done to him there.

"I'm sorry." Her features softened and she touched his face gently, seemingly unaware of his harsh words. She had her own agenda. What he wanted was of little consequence, just as it had been so long ago. "Goodbye, Logan."

_Oh, God. Oh, Christ. C'mon!_

"Kid!" He shook her harder. "Don't do this. C'mon, darlin'."

Marie shook her head and he watched as the blackness in her eyes contracted to the diameter of her pupil and she blinked a few times. He'd never been so happy to see her vivid green eyes.

"Logan?" She was more than a little rattled.

"Oh thank Christ!" He hugged her to him hard.

"Oof! You're squeezing the stuffin' out of me, sugar."

He relaxed his hold but did not let her go. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. That was... it felt weird, but I'm okay."

"You sure?"

She took a moment to peer inward. She was unsettled but not damaged. "Yeah. She's gone now. Really gone, I think." As much as they ever could be, anyway.

"What the hell was that?"

"A goodbye? I guess the Phoenix wanted one too. There are echoes of her power here. I should have guessed that this might happen."

"Fuck that. We're gettin' outta here. I'm not takin' chances with you, baby. I never woulda brought you here if I'd been thinkin' right." He tried to pull her away. She stood resolute. He might as well have been trying to move a mountain for all the good it did.

"No."

"No?"

"You don't have to be afraid."

"The fuck I don't. I saw her in your eyes."

"Hey, hey... You're not going to lose me."

"I'm not gonna take that chance, kid. Not again. It would kill me this time."

"Logan, listen to me. You're not going to lose me. I'm stronger than she is."

"Kid, you're damned strong now, I'll give ya that. But you're not stronger than her. She's a Class Five. Your power has limits. Hers don't. She's a goddamn goddess." The fact that her consciousness could reach out and speak to them from the Beyond was proof enough for him.

"I know. Listen to me. Her power is stronger than mine, that's true. But I'm stronger than she is. Me. The person. The vessel. I'm stronger than Jean because I lean into it."

"Mmph." He was not convinced.

"Charles put a series of psychic blocks in her mind."

"I know. He told me. I told him he was full of shit. That when you cage a beast, it gets pissed."

"You were right. Remember what we talked about last night? How personal discovery and growth comes from letting there be room for all things to happen? Grief. Relief. Misery. Joy. When Charles stopped her from fully experiencing those things with all of herself, she stopped growing. It stunted her ability to embrace what she really was. Maybe even to control it. Who knows what she might have been, what might have happened if he hadn't done that? If she'd had the chance to lean into it instead of hiding from it?"

That might be true, but he'd seen that power first hand. Had felt it sear his flesh to ash on a whim. He had seen her take men apart atom by atom.

"She killed the Professor."

"How many people have you killed who put you in a cage?" His head reared back. "I'm not defending her. I loved Charles. I love him still. I'll never be able to forgive her for what she did, for taking his light from the world. But I can understand it a little."

"She killed Scott. I'm not takin' that risk with you." He was emphatic.

"That's not what happened."

"How do you know?"

"She showed me. They showed me."

"They?"

He didn't like the sound of that.

She nodded.

"He found her here. She told him to take the glasses off, that she could control his gift. She was right. He did and they kissed. In that moment, he knew Jean was gone."

"And she _killed_ him."

"Not like you mean."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"The Phoenix consumed Jean. He followed her into the fire. It was what he wanted." She was crying now. "You go- I go. That's what it was for him. They were a package deal too."

"God." There was a lump in his throat. He knew what that kind of love felt like now, and in a profoundly personal way it made him understand Scott's grief and his choice to follow his lover. He would never like the man, but he understood him a little better now.

Logan held Marie while she trembled and cried in his arms.

"I miss him, you know?" Her tears were wet on his neck and he could feel the warmth of her breath as she spoke.

A part of him hated hearing that, but he knew she needed to say it.

"I miss her, too."

"He was my friend," she said softly.

Logan had no reply to that. Jean hadn't ever been his friend. The Wolverine had wanted the wildness in her. He'd been so different then, incapable of opening his heart. Marie was right, the miles he'd put on since then had changed him. She had changed him. She'd split his heart wide open.

"I know, kid."

"I miss him so much." Her strong body shook with tears. "I know- I know it's hard for you to hear that."

It was.

"But he was just- just there for me. Really there. When I was down. When I needed someone to talk to. When I wanted to play a really good prank. All those times you were gone. That was hard and he was one who pulled me through a lot of that."

"Jesus, baby. You're killin' me here." He was trying to lean into it, but it hurt. Bad. This time, instead of running from it or walling himself off from the pain, he let it wash through him. Another man had taken care of her when he could not. He hated seeing his own weakness reflected back at him, but with it came the realization that he was grateful for what Scott had done for her and the knowledge that he'd changed enough to be what she needed now in a way he never could have been before.

Gradually her shudders of sadness became shivers of cold.

This time she allowed him to lead her back toward their camp and the fire that had probably burned low in their absence. He lit a cigar and was still thinking about the fire when her steps slowed and she stopped along a particularly unexceptional stretch of shoreline.

"What is it, baby?"

Her hand stretched out toward the water.

"I feel..." her head tilted. "Yes.. it's there... a piece of that _remarkable_ metal." Logan shivered. He never liked hearing Magneto come out of her mouth, even if the voice was all hers. The dulcet tone was the same, but she lost the drawl. His words were measured and clipped, and to his ear they sounded wrong on her tongue. It had happened a few times before, but not enough times for him to always understand what triggered it.

"How big a piece?" The memory of filling that poor crazy bitch with adamantium until she drowned in it flashed unpleasantly through his mind. Surely her body had been so heavy that even that much rushing water couldn't have washed her this far from the facility? She should stay buried. Let her rest.

Marie blinked and extended her hand, her fingers moving slightly as she concentrated. "Not big. Couple of inches maybe?"

Relief softened his stiff stance. Not a body then. Maybe just a little of the metal that had been left in the tubing. That could have easily been washed down this far.

"Get it for me."

His request seemed to surprise them both.

Her eyes closed and her fingers stiffened and shook. He took a step back. That power always made his bones resonate unpleasantly. A hundred yards out, a small blob rose out of the lake and rocketed in their direction. She slowed the speed as it got closer. It wasn't much to look at, covered with muck and sediment from the bottom of the lake.

There was a sparkle in her eye as she reached out with her other hand. "I'm just gonna borrow that a minute, sugar..."

She reached for Pyro's gift and stole the red glow from the tip of his cigar. It flared and burned brightly in her palm, consuming the filthy lump of metal floating effortlessly above her fingers. The flame changed from yellow to blue to white, hotter and hotter to burn away the chaff, leaving the wheat behind. When the fire died, what remained was a flawless ribbon of adamantium about the diameter of the inside of a garden hose, curved in a shallow semi-circle. It was not quite as long as her hand and gleamed in her fingers.

Logan reached out to touch it and sucked in a sharp breath as the silky metal burned his skin.

"Shit!" He sucked his finger with a scowl and a dark chuckle. Burns always healed slower and stung miserably.

"Careful."

"It don't hurt you?" She was invulnerable but that didn't mean that she was immune to pain.

"Nah. John's got asbestos fingers," she grinned and quenched the metal in the cool water of the lake before handing it to him; a baptism of sorts.

Logan turned it over in his fingers, feeling the warm silky metal under his fingertips.

"Thanks."

She shrugged. "It belongs with you."

It did.

It was mate to the metal that was fused to his skeleton. They were the same. It wasn't just that the metal was similar. It was from the same batch that was bonded to his bones, suspended as a liquid for three decades before the failure of the dam turned it into one of the most expensive paperweights the world had ever seen. The thought was particularly suited to his wry humor.

Logan tucked it into his breast pocket with a nod. The weight felt surprisingly good. It settled something in him.

He kissed her there, on the shore of the lake of pain, and for the measure of time she was in his arms, he felt none of it.

* * *

Up next: **The Goodbye**. Fire. Ice. Blood. Old ghosts are laid to rest. New ones stir... and the lovers share another first.


	38. The Goodbye

_Trust I seek and I find in you_   
_Every day for us something new_   
_Open mind for a different view_   
_And nothing else matters_

Back at camp, Logan built up the fire until the flames licked up against the sky as twilight fell in golden tones of plum and blush.

Marie boiled water in their little pot and poured it into the foil packets of yuppie food that were surprisingly satisfying after their emotional afternoon; a loaf of crusty bread dipped into the hearty stew. Logan made coffee and they shared a bag of peanut brittle between them as the stars began to appear overhead, a glittering spray across the sky like crystals on an evening gown.

Logan's knee bumped hers. "Penny for 'em, darlin'."

She sighed softly. "I was thinking that they never had a proper goodbye. Not just Scott and Jean, but all the souls who were lost here."

"You think we should say a few words or somethin'?"

"I don't know. Neither one of us are really the speech-giving type, sugar... but it seems wrong to not mark their passing in some way. Tibet is strong in me, but Mississippi will always be in my soul. A good sendoff is part of the ride."

"Hmm."

"Hmm?"

"We can do that."

"What? Leave a marker or something?"

"Nah. Nothin' so permanent. This place'll just swallow up anythin' we leave behind. I was thinkin'..."

When he hesitated, Marie nudged herself into his side more firmly and put her head on his shoulder. "Tell me."

"In Japan, they have a lantern ceremony. Part of it is returnin' to your ancestral home. Lanterns made of silk or rice paper are lit and floated on the water to guide the dead to their rest. There's celebratin'. Laughter and tears. Food's part of it too; shared with the livin' and the dead. As the lanterns drift away, so do the spirits."

"That sounds beautiful."

"It is."

"Have you ever lit a lantern for your family?"

"Every year." Silk for his daughter. Mariko always liked the rice paper ones the best.

"I'm so glad you can do that for them. And for yourself, too."

He squeezed her gently. "Fireworks are sometime shot off at the end to scare away any evil spirits."

"Well, I don't have a lantern, but I think I can manage the fireworks," she said with a wry smile.

"I think I can swing the rest if you wanna."

Her hand tightened on his. "I do."

Logan got up and used wood from the pile he'd gathered and rope from his pack. He lashed together a small bundle of thick branches into a rough square and filled it with mossy tinder and smaller twigs. It resembled a small funeral pyre - and, Logan thought with an inward twinge, that's exactly what it was.

He carried it to the shore and held out his hand for Marie to join him.

"Can you make me a block of ice to set this on?"

She nodded. "How big?"

"'Bout a meter square and maybe half a meter thick?"

"Comin' up." She dipped her fingers into the icy water and crystals spread out from the ripple, forming a beautiful frosted block. As the lake water lapped over it, it became translucent and sparkly. Logan set the wood on top and reached for his lighter. Marie put her hand on his arm. "Let me?"

His eyebrow went up.

"We lost Pyro here too." Not in the same way they'd lost Jean and Scott, but gone all the same. He should be represented as well.

She reached for his gift and took the flame from the lighter in Logan's thick fingers. It bloomed above her fingers, flickering brightly in the darkness. The moss smoked for a moment and then caught. Inside, she felt John's keen interest as the flame sputtered and then steadied, growing brighter until it began to reflect off the glassy water.

They stood and Logan pushed their makeshift lantern out into the water. Marie nudged it with Bobby's gift so it would drift toward the center of the lake rather than back to the shore.

Neither of them said a word. They watched the fire slowly grow more intense as it burned beyond the tinder to the wood and rope. It danced on the water, a beautiful shimmering glow of orange and gold.

Logan slipped a piece of peanut brittle into her hand. It wasn't the traditional offering of rice, but it was the best they had and Jean had always had a bit of a sweet tooth. He took a bite of the piece in his hand and cast the rest out into the water. Marie did the same.

They shared a salty-sweet kiss. The tip of his nose was cold against her cheek. He tucked her into his side as they watched the glow begin to recede.

"Do you think they're at peace now?" That's what he'd always hoped for himself in the end. Now that he had Marie, he hoped for as much time as their unique gifts would allow, but he wanted that for them both. Someday, a long time from now.

"Maybe. But I'm not sure peace is the ultimate goal, sugar."

"No?" He wasn't sure he could imagine anything better than sinking into that peace with Marie after a long, wild ride.

"I think maybe it's just learning how to walk a good road."

His teeth flashed in the darkness. Her flame was so bright. Even the end wouldn't stop her. She'd fight on in that next place, pushing out ahead to light the way for those who came after.

Across the lake, the glow faded and winked out.

"Now, kid."

She closed her eyes and reached for Jubilee's gift. It always felt so good to let that power crackle and flow. Like a hug from across the distance, warm and bright. She laughed in spite of herself as Jubilee's brand of fireworks lit up the night, chasing away the spirits lurking in the shadows as they left glittering trails in the sky.

How like Jubes to outshine the stars.

**~ooOoo~**

_So close, no matter how far_   
_Couldn't be much more from the heart_   
_Forever trusting who we are_   
_And nothing else matters_

Logan parked a shivering Marie by the fire before piling it high with wood. When he was finished, he leaned in for a kiss and she laughed into his mouth.

"What?"

"Is that adamantium in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

He chuckled, pulling the gleaming piece of metal from his breast pocket.

"Both."

The slender cylinder with a shallow curve was slightly phallic in appearance. She giggled softly as held it out in front of his hips suggestively, waggling it at her with a glow of prurient amusement in his eyes. The play of adults. They both enjoyed it.

"Impressive."

He rolled his eyes.

"I'd cry if my dick was only this big." His smile got bigger. "And so would you."

That time her laughter was belly deep. It rang out into the night and carried over the still water.

"Look on the bright side... it'd be the hardest hardon ever, right? Never going soft at the wrong moment..."

"Mmph." He snorted. "I've never had any problems in that department, darlin'."

Marie snickered. "I know. You've got the libido of a horny teenage boy, sugar, and a body that can keep up with your every dirty thought." Her eyes were warm. "I'm a lucky girl."

"Heh." They were both lucky. He stroked the small pseudo-penis casually. "You ain't wrong though. This is the kind of hardon even Aunt Bee couldn't kill." It was more an internal musing that escaped without thought than a comment specifically aimed at her.

"What?" Her head tilted and she was surprised when the glow of the flames revealed a touch of heat in his cheeks that didn't have a damn thing to do with the fire.

"Nothin'."

"Uh-huh. Not nothin'. Aunt Bee, sugar?" Her eyes were dancing. They were both enjoying the moment of levity after the emotional catharsis of saying goodbye. "Don't make me tickle it outta you."

"You're a menace, kid." She was still looking at him expectantly. He knew she wouldn't press if he really didn't want to share but in this case, he didn't mind too much. "Aunt Bee, y'know? From Andy Griffith? Crusty old battle-axe with a face like a prune?"

"I know who she is, sunshine. Just because I talk with a drawl doesn't mean I think with one, too." Her laughter joined the amusement rumbling in his chest.

"Heh. Well, that's what I think about when I'm tryin' to make it go down if I get hard at the wrong time. It don't happen too often, but sometimes my body and my brain ain't on the same page."

She was utterly charmed by his answer and by the intimate look he'd given her into his head. "Aunt Bee? Really? And that works?"

"Oh yeah."

"That's hilarious." And too adorable for words, but she didn't say so aloud. He was a proud man and she'd teased him enough. She caught his hand in hers. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

He just shrugged.

Marie smiled at him, holding his eyes while she reached out and stroked the smooth metal purposefully. Suggestively. She wet her big soft lips and left them parted in a way that made the real thing tucked away behind his zipper sit up and take notice.

"Hold that thought, huh?" He pressed the adamantium into her hand and wrapped her fingers around it like he'd done with his tag once, long ago. They both smiled.

"Logan?"

"We need more wood if we want the fire to last the night, baby. I'll be back soon."

"You want help?"

"No. I wantcha to get warm by the fire."

"That's sweet."

"No it ain't. I just don't wanna feel your icy feet on me when we go to bed," he teased.

Marie used Bobby's gift to hurl a snowball at his retreating back. It scored a direct hit and she heard his chuckle roll over the crisp snow. "That's your one free shot, kid. After that, it's on," he called over his shoulder, brushing the snow from his back.

He heard her quiet laughter as he disappeared into the trees in search of some heavy fallen branches that would burn slow enough to last until morning.

She pulled the piece of fallen log she was using for a seat closer to the fire and shivered as the dry heat made her face feel crackly. Her boots were close enough to the fire now to feel the warmth through the soles. She sighed in contentment and stroked the sleek metal with her thumb.

It was strange to think that this was the same metal that coated Logan's bones and sprung from his hands. It didn't have the same luster as his claws. She could feel Erik's gift stirring within her and she wondered why he'd never hurt Logan as badly as he probably could have. He'd flung Logan around, lifted him and controlled him, even spread his claws apart, but he'd never bent the metal itself. Why had he never crumpled Logan into a ball, like a discarded piece of aluminum foil? Had he hoped to find an ally in Logan someday or had he only been able to move the remarkable metal, not manipulate it? Erik was unhelpful, silent when she looked inward. Typical. He was mercurial on a good day.

Marie reached for Erik's gift and the metal lifted to hover above her upturned palm. It felt different than when she touched other metal with his powers. Adamantium was supposed to be indestructible once it had cooled. She wondered if she could change its shape. Manipulation was different than destruction, surely.

It spun above her hand, turning slowly in the light of the fire. Gathering his gift closer, she looked deeper, beyond the surface to individual molecules of adamantium underneath and she pushed. Hard.

The metal remained smooth and unchanged, still suspended and spinning slowly.

She tried again, focusing on the molecular bonds themselves, on the electrons that held the metal together at the subatomic level. It gave her a headache, but she concentrated and pushed again.

Marie was delighted when the metal finally shifted. She pushed harder, trying to reform it into a different shape. The amorphous blob that resulted didn't resemble the star she'd been trying for. Using the same techniques to calm her mind that she did when she meditated, she reached again and this time the metal responded, reforming into a smooth sphere.

Her elation was quiet. It took a lot of concentration to keep the metal fluid and movable. Sweat beaded her forehead. The metal spun, rippling and shifting. The sphere changed into a cube and then a tetrahedron. She kept pushing, trying for more and more complex shapes.

A five pointed star became a six pointed star and then it fell in on itself to become a sphere again. Her face grew pensive. The Blackbird appeared. Scott. A feather. Jean. A chess piece. Charles.

She thought of Logan and it became a heart. A wolverine followed. A smile touched her face. It took two tries for it to become a perfectly rendered origami crane. She even managed to make the wings flutter.

It coalesced back into a sphere that split to form two perfect rings. The unconscious wish of her heart, perhaps.

Logan stood silently behind her, the pile of wood in his arms forgotten as he watched the metal above Marie's palm reveal a train of thought that was clearly private.

A heart. Love.

A wolverine. Him.

The meaning of the rest as clear as if she'd given him the words.

A beautiful warmth flared to life inside him. Once those images would have scared him. Now they made his heart glow. He wondered if she was aware of what she was doing or if it was subconscious, like doodling in a notebook. The Marie version of thinking aloud.

He cleared his throat.

She didn't hear him and he imagined it must take an incredible amount of concentration to shift indestructible metal.

He walked into her view and added the wood to the pile beside the fire before brushing off his arms to give her moment to compose herself in case she needed it. He was aware he'd intruded on a very private moment, one she might not be ready to share.

When he looked again, the rings were gone. She'd reformed the metal into the shape of a Zippo lighter, something he could easily carry in his pocket. Hidden in plain sight. He smiled. That would do. For now. His eyes flicked up to her face and the smile faded. His brows drew together in concern.

"You're bleedin', darlin'."

"What?" Wide green eyes blinked at him in confusion.

She seemed a little out of it.

"Blood. Your nose is bleedin'."

Marie put a hand to her face and realized she could feel a trickle of blood from her nose to her chin. When she looked down, she could see several drops in the snow by her feet. It had been bleeding a while and she'd been too focused to notice.

"Oh. Crap."

"Gimme that." He took the adamantium lighter from her fingertips and shoved it in his pocket, wanting it out of her reach. The blood was unsettling him. It wasn't much, but he thought it probably took a hell of a lot to make an invulnerable girl bleed. "You okay?" He tore a strip off his flannel shirt and held it to her face.

"I think so. I'm just- just tired. I didn't realize how much energy that was taking." She winced as she took the scrap from him and wiped her chin before applying more pressure to her nose.

"Head hurt?"

"Yeah, but I can feel you in there healing me. Just slower than usual. Probably because of the flight earlier." She'd overtaxed the system. She almost never flew like that, but she'd wanted to impress him. To show him what she could really do. "I'll be fine. I just need to rest some. Look, it's already stopping." She was right. The steady trickle had slowed.

"Good."

Logan wet a clean piece of the cloth with snow melted from his fingers and gently cleaned the blood from her face.

"Let's getcha into bed, baby." That she didn't protest told him she was probably hurting worse than she let on.

He got her settled and came back to build up the fire one last time.

Not much rattled him, but this place could and did.

He would not allow the darkness here to touch his mate.

* * *

Up next: **The Tent**. Though the new lovers have been together for weeks, they've never shared a night quite like this one…


	39. The Tent

_I tuck you in, warm within_   
_Keep you free from sin_   
_Till the Sandman, he comes…_

Back inside the tent, Logan took off his boots and jacket and pulled on a sweatshirt, trading his jeans for sweats before climbing into bed with Marie and tucking her against his side tenderly.

She snuggled up to him, her little fingers seeking out his skin like they always did. He shifted to his side so they were face to face. He smiled as she snuggled into him, one leg slid between his, one hand under his shirt and the other tucked under the waistband at the back of his pants to feel the smooth skin there. He put his hand on her hip and kissed her forehead.

"Feelin' better?"

"I'm better now." She cuddled deeper into his embrace. "I like it here, how big it feels outside and how cozy it is in here with you. It's like we're the only two people in the world. You're so warm. I could stay like this forever."

"Heh. I know whatcha mean, there. I just needta know how you're doin'."

"I'm good. Just need to rest a little."

"Headache any better?"

"Yeah. It feels good to just lay here with my eyes closed, breathing you in."

"Big day, huh?"

"Yeah. I'm tired but my brain is spinning too much for me to go to sleep."

"Mmph." Mostly when that happened, he made love to her until sleep came easily for them both. She often wanted it on the wilder side those nights; something really intimate and physical to bring her out of her head and firmly into her body. He usually took her hard from behind and they were both pretty vocal, talking to each other, but just about what was happening physically between them. Love words and sex words - dirty talk and uninhibited sounds of pleasure, but somehow that didn't seem right tonight.

"Talk to me?"

Her touch on his body was intimate, not sexual. A small cold hand on his chest and another one caressing the firm, powerful curve of his buttock.

"I was thinkin' how sad this place is. How much everythin' changed after, for all of us. I know it probably ain't right, but I like to remember Jeannie like she was here - helpin' us, doin' good for the people she loved - and not how she was at Alcatraz. Hurtin' people." So many men obliterated. Ash in the wind. They were nothing to her. Nothing. He could be counted among that number.

"I'm so sorry you have to carry that."

He shrugged. "Better my shoulders than someone else's."

"Hey, just because you're built to take the bad things, doesn't mean you should have to."

"You know, that right there- that's pretty much why I feel about you the way I do."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. A lotta people want things from me. Want me to do things for 'em or be a certain way with 'em." She understood he meant be rough with them in bed. "They wanna get things outta me. Sometimes the things they want ain't even all bad, you know? But you're the only one who ever cared what I wanted. Who wanted to give me the things I need."

"Of course I want to give you that. I feel so humbled that you'd even let me see those things. It blows me away that you let Wolverine show me what he needs, too. That's huge for me. That you can show me those things? That's the best thing for me."

"The best thing?"

"Yes." Her voice was soft but emphatic. "I love the things you give me, sugar; love and laughter and security and passion and pleasure and intimacy... but that you let me see you- the real you- and that you trust me enough to show me the things you need... that's what really lights my fire."

For a moment he couldn't speak. The lump in his throat was too thick. He hugged her close instead and pressed a kiss to the place on her neck where he'd bitten her that first night. The Wolverine licked it for good measure. He wanted to be heard, too.

They fell into an easy silence for a few minutes, but Marie was still too wound up to sleep.

"You're quiet, sugar."

"Thinkin'."

"Wanna share with the class?"

He huffed softly against her hair. "I was thinkin' that mosta the places we've been so far are places I wouldn't mind if we went back to someday. But not this place. I don't wanna come here again."

"I understand. There's a lot of pain in this place and we lost a lot of good friends here." She understood, but it stung a little that Jean still had any power over how he felt. Logan picked his head up as her scent slipped toward hurt.

"Hey, it ain't all about her, you know?"

Her smile was a little sad. "Somehow, I don't think you're that broken up about Scott."

He snorted at that. "More than I thought, but yeah. You're right. It's not her. It's you. I almost lost you here too."

"Me?"

"Yeah. When you got sucked outta the Blackbird. I know that was after Boston, but we wound up here pretty quick after and when I think of this place and what was lost here, I always think of that. Like the first domino."

"Really?"

They'd never spoken about that before.

"Yeah. I've never felt so helpless in my life. Worse than when I stabbed you. Worse even than the torch. At least those times I could touch you. Try to bring you back that way. That time you were just gone and there wasn't a fuckin' thing I could do."

"You never said."

"I'm sayin' it now. It was like havin' my heart ripped away. Feelin' that for you then? I knew it was wrong. You were still too young."

"I saw you kiss Jean that night in the woods." The words were soft but sounded defensive to her own ears. She had old pain buried deep, too. It wasn't just him.

"I did. I was runnin' like hell from what you made me feel."

"Oh."

"Mystique came my tent that night pretendin' to be Jean. Bet you didn't see that."

"Nope." Her nose wrinkled up. "Do I really want to hear this part?"

He chuffed. "She climbed on me, started kissin' on me real good. When I caught her out, she put on 'Ro's face. Then yours."

"Whoa."

"Yeah."

"Mine? Really?"

"Yup. There was only one face that got a physical reaction outta me. Wanna guess who?"

"Oh my God."

"Yeah. I wasn't expectin' that either. I knocked her on her ass then told her to get the fuck out."

"Couldn't you tell her by her scent right away?"

"I was distracted."

"By Jean?"

"By the thought of you spendin' the night in a tent with the little snowflake right after you got sucked outta the plane. He's a good kid, you know, generally speakin', but he's a guy, too. I was thinkin' he'd use that to get with you. But I was also thinkin' you should have that if you wanted it. It was your life that needed affirmin'. So yeah, I was fuckin' distracted."

"You couldn't be more wrong. 'Ro and Jean shared a tent. Bobby, John, and Kurt had the other. I slept by the fire."

"What?"

"They were all afraid of me."

"Hmph. That ain't right." He was angry for her. "Nobody slept with me either."

"I offered to share with you. I was the only one not afraid of your claws and I knew you wouldn't be afraid of having me that close, at least not because of my skin, but Jean and 'Ro wouldn't allow it. They made me sleep in a blanket by the fire. Appearances, they said." There was some real heat in her voice.

"Still pissed about that one, huh?"

"Oh yeah. The goddamn skeeters ate me alive. And if Jean was so damned worried about appearances, she shouldn't have kissed you like she did."

"She didn't. I kissed her."

"She kissed you back."

"Mmph." He sighed. It was hard to argue with the truth. "I'd have given you my tent if I'd known."

"I know. That's why I didn't tell you. I knew you'd need space after everything that had happened with Stryker back at the school."

There it was again. That thing she did, looking out for him without his even asking for it. Without him even knowing he needed it.

The silence stretched out again. Her breathing said she wasn't asleep, but he didn't want to interrupt her in case she was getting tired.

"I wasn't alone."

"What?" He wasn't following her lateral brain jump.

"After I got sucked out of the plane. I wasn't alone. You were with me. Up here." He felt her tap her head.

"I was?"

"Yeah. It felt like I was falling forever, but it was probably only a few seconds before Kurt bamfed in and got me."

"It felt like forever for me too, kid."

"You were with me the whole time, telling me that it was gonna be okay. That you'd stay and I wouldn't be alone. That you'd hang onto me real tight and follow me after I... just after. That I wouldn't have to go into that next place alone."

"Good."

"Can I tell you something a little hard?"

Harder than that? God.

"Anythin'."

"I- I had to shut you out. You kept me calm, kept me in my rational mind, but you weren't helping. I wanted to live. Wolverine wanted that, too. He was fighting like hell and so was I. I couldn't control the gifts I'd taken in like I can now, but the potential was there. Wolverine was tellin' me that I was gonna live. That he'd fix me from the inside after I fell, no matter how bad it was. And he was terrorizin' the fuck out of Erik. Forcin' him let me touch the metal in my clothes. The button and zipper on my pants. The buckle on my belt. The grommets in my shoes. My earrings. There was enough metal for me to slow my descent if I could just touch it and force it to my will. I was already beginning to slow down when Kurt grabbed me. It would have been ugly, but I think I might have made it on my own." Her accent was getting stronger like it always did when she was agitated.

"Jesus."

"That's what's gave me the guts to fly the blackbird at Alkali. That was the first time I touched the pool inside myself and felt something more than just a handful of voices and the dying echoes of gifts I couldn't use. You helped me see that. That wild part of you that never gives up wouldn't let me give up either."

"You were always strong, darlin'. I'm a soldier, but you're a fighter. There's a difference. You have a beautiful light in you. S'fierce and powerful. Draws me in. Keeps me warm."

Marie smiled. "I don't feel powerful. I just feel like… me. More confident than I used to be as a kid, but I'm still that awkward girl with a gap in her teeth, a quick temper and a taste for cheap cigars, old whiskey, and older men."

"That girl does it for me. Always has."

Her body felt less tense against his now. Her mind was beginning to wind down.

"Logan?"

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"I like whispering with you in the dark."

"Back atcha." He stroked her hair softly. "How's the head?"

"Better. Resting helped. So did the dark and the talking. Mostly it was just laying here, connecting with you. That's the best thing for me."

She felt him smile against her hair and he pulled her closer, rolling to his back and settling her half on top of him; her head on his chest and one leg thrown over his thigh. His arm was around her and her hand rested on his belly, rubbing back and forth in soothing circles.

"Still wanna talk?"

"I'm getting sleepy now but, yeah. A little more if that's okay? It feels easier to talk here like this."

"Alkali?"

"I don't think it's that really. I like the fire and the tent and snuggling in this sleeping bag with you. I'm not a huge fan of freezing my butt off when I have to pee, but the rest of it- yeah."

"Heh."

"I saw you peed a name into the snow earlier."

"I did. I thought he woulda found that funny." His own goodbye.

She giggled. "He would have." Logan had peed 'One Eye' into the snow. "He's from Alaska, you know?"

"I didn't know that."

"Yep."

"Yukio found me in Alaska."

"Why Alaska?"

"You know why. A little bit of you was always with me, darlin'."

"Even then?"

"Even then." It was all that he'd had left of her.

"Mmm..." A contented little purr rumbled out of her and he smiled in spite of himself. Her eyes closed.

"More?"

"A little..."

"I saw you movin' the adamantium tonight."

"Yeah…?" She wondered how much he'd seen. She wasn't worried about it. She had no more secrets from him.

"You think you could take the metal outta me someday?"

She picked her head up at that.

"What?"

"Relax, kid. I'm just musin' aloud here. Ramblin'. No deep thoughts 'bout it or nothin'."

"Okay." She took that at face value. "In that case, ask me again in fifty years if you're still interested." She put her head back down.

"Heh."

"Why did you want that piece of adamantium from the lake?"

"I dunno. I just wanted it."

She yawned. "I thought maybe it was because it was a piece you could control." He'd never had any say over what was done to him. It was a chance to reclaim that in a way. Mastery over the thing that had nearly broken him.

"Mmph." She saw too much, as usual. But she didn't push him and he was aware she probably wouldn't have said it so starkly if she hadn't been moments from sleep. He stroked her back softly.

"Mmm..."

"I didn't know what I wanted it for then." He thought of the rings he'd seen her shape. "I know now."

He wasn't sure she heard him, but she smiled in her sleep and her little hand wormed inside his sweats to cup him intimately in her slender fingers. She sighed against him and he felt all the tension drain out of her as she gave herself over to him and to sleep.

It was the first night in the ten weeks they'd been together that they hadn't made love before bed. In some ways, today had been even more intimate than sex. She was right. Coming here had been hard and he hadn't expected a lot of what this place churned up in them both.

They'd leaned into it - and into each other - and together they'd laid those old ghosts to rest. No more lost spirits growling in the dark. He felt lighter. Freer.

But the best part of it all was when the dust settled, he got to be the man watching over her as she slept.

* * *

Up next: **The Game**. Stuck inside a cabin while a storm growls outside, Logan and Marie play a game to pass the time.

(Any guesses?) I'll give you a hint. It's _not_ quarters. Logan learned his lesson last time...


	40. The Game

After Alkali Lake, they got snowed in for three days in Whitehorse. This time, Logan knew better than to play quarters with Marie again. He tried blackjack instead and spent another amusing, intimate evening spilling his guts. He told her in no uncertain terms that if he caught her cheating he'd put her over his knee. The score had been pretty even until he'd made that little announcement, at which point he'd begun losing steadily.

Coincidence?

He thought not. His theory was confirmed when she caved half way through and admitted with a naughty grin that both Hank and Remy could count cards and since she had them both in her head, she could as well. It was harder for her to do with poker, but twenty-one was relatively easy.

God, that had been a good night, he reflected. He wondered if her ass had stung as long as his palm.

The next night Marie was surprised when he got out their battered deck of cards again.

"Sugar?" Usually these little games were her idea. Though he often enjoyed the outcome, she thought he was mostly indulging her. Now she wondered if there was something driving him too. She craved intimacy with him the way a drowning man craved air. Maybe he felt a little of that, too.

"You and me, kid. High card wins." There was no way for her to manipulate the outcome there. It was pure chance.

"Stakes? I'm not sure you've got any fantasies left to share after last time."

"Heh. True." A sardonic grin touched his lips. "But it wasn't me whinin' about how much my ass hurt after, baby."

That amused them both. God, he loved her full-throated laugh.

"Fair point."

"So, stakes? How 'bout loser takes a shot'n shares somethin' dirty? I think we've still got some Wild Turkey and a bottle of Grey Goose. I left it in the truck, so it should be cold as hell."

"Amend that to sharing a sexual like before the shot and a sexual dislike after and you're on, cowboy."

That earned her a little lift of his eyebrow.

"Hmm... I like sex. I dislike not havin' sex. How's that?"

"Be serious!"

"Hey, I was serious. Heh." She swatted his arm and he chuckled.

"Come on! You know you want to..."

He thought it over. She was right. He did. "Oh yeah. S'on now, little girl." His eyes flashed playfully. It had the potential to be a deeper conversation than the simple sharing of fantasies. He still felt uncomfortable at times, but the payoff - getting to know those intimate details about her - was a damned fine incentive. The alcohol helped, too. And being drunk with her was just plain fun. "Same rule as last time. You cheat and I'll put ya over my knee again."

Her eyes flashed. "You're welcome to try, cowboy," she drawled, setting two shot glasses down on the coffee table and settling back into the old, soft couch while he got the bottles.

"Heh. You best remember who got pinned last time we played that little game."

He set the bourbon in front of himself and the tall, frosty bottle of vodka in front of her before sitting down and tucking her feet into his lap.

"I want a rematch."

"Any time." The look on his face was positively predatory.

She shivered all the way to her toes.

It took longer to warm up to this game than when they had shared their fantasies. That was easier. Lighter in some ways. By an hour in, however, they were both pretty lubricated and the conversation - and the alcohol - was flowing freely.

"Dammit." She'd beaten his jack of clubs with the queen of diamonds. He'd won the last two rounds so the odds weren't in his favor of winning a third.

"A dirty one this time, sugar."

His eyebrow went up. "And the last one wasn't?"

"Oh, it totally was." God, it still made her blush to think about it. She couldn't believe he'd said that out loud. It might have taken him a while to get going, but once he did, he took no prisoners. "I want more like that."

"Heh. Vixen."

"I am... and you like it."

"Damn straight."

She saluted him with the bottle. "I'm waiting..."

"Hmmm." He contemplated the amber liquid in his glass. "Got one. I like pullin' up a skirt. S'better'n pullin' down pants. Better'n naked sometimes. There's just somethin' about bendin' you over and pushin' a skirt up, especially a nice one, that just gets me so fuckin' hot."

"Yeah?"

"Don't get me wrong... pushin' up a short, tight skirt is good too- but there's somethin' about a nice one, like that green dress you wear... Jesus. I guess it's just knowin' a nice girl, a good girl like you's lettin' me put it to her a little wild, a little dirty. Skirt all flipped up and goin' at it hard. Panties pulled to the side, not off. That makes it even hotter. Really gets me revvin', you know?"

"I definitely know." Her laughter was infectious. "I like that one too, for sure."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

He did the shot. He didn't like sharing the dislikes nearly as much. "Hmm... I don't like bein' hit, really. Bein' spanked. That kinda shit. Not really my thing." After everything he'd been through, she could understand why he didn't like that. "I like it when you get a little rough with me, when you fight back when we're gettin' a little wild and outta control... takin' a hit's different then. But takin' a smack just because? Nah. I'd rather be handin' 'em out."

Marie rolled her eyes at his teasing. And then rolled her eyes again when she lost the draw. A three of spades to his seven of hearts. "Crap!"

"Your turn, darlin'." He poured her a shot. Her nose was all pinched up because she hated losing as much as he did. She met his eyes and grinned.

"Well, I happen to really like a good, well delivered spank."

"I know." He looked very smug. "Makes a hot fuck that much hotter. Now drink up and let's have the rest..."

She tossed back her shot, shivering at the cold, smooth vodka. "I'm all for talking in bed, but I don't like being called names. Slut. Bitch. Whore. That kinda thing. I know some girls like that, but I don't. I like to submit sometimes, but being degraded is definitely not my cup of tea."

His face darkened. He'd never done that with her, but someone had and there was a touch of murder in his eyes. "Grrrr..." the snarl was out before he could stop it.

"I feel the same way."

"Hmph."

"If it makes you feel any better, I gave him a black eye."

"S'fuckin' lucky. I'd have done a helluva lot worse."

She smiled. "It was a long, long time ago."

"Bali trip?"

"Yeah." She shuffled the cards and put them in front of him, not wanting to linger on that unpleasant memory. "Draw, sugar."

She lost again and he was charmed by her little growl. "Rrrrrr..."

"Heh."

"Dirty talk."

"Yeah, that's the point, baby. Get to it."

"I mean I like dirty talk."

"In bed?"

"In bed. On the phone. In the truck."

"On the phone, huh?"

"Oh yeah." Her eyes were sparkling. Remy'd had a deliciously filthy mouth and she'd really come to appreciate aural sex in all its incarnations. It still made her feel pretty blushy, but she did like it in the right mood.

"That one's gonna need a pin in it too."

"Mmm..." She gave him an appraising look. "You up for that?" She particularly liked Logan's style. He wasn't flowery and he didn't try to be erotic. He just spoke his mind, candidly, sometimes crudely, and that raw honesty really did it for her.

"Hell yeah. You know, someday when I can letcha outta my sight." It was playful now instead of needy like it had been in the beginning. "Dislike?"

"Easy. Food sex without a shower handy afterwards."

"Heh. That wasn't my fault. You know I can't think right when you do that thing with your hands." He hadn't realized the cabin they'd chosen was a sleeping cabin only with facilities up at the main lodge until afterwards.

"Do you even know how sticky honey is under your clothes?"

"Kid, I took three showers and was still findin' sticky spots two days later. So, yeah. I sure as hell do."

She had the good grace to blush. "I disavow any knowledge of that..."

"Bullshit."

She shuffled the cards and slid them over. "Draw."

"Mmph." He did. A ten of clubs. He sat back smugly, hoping for the best and cursed under his breath as she drew the ace of diamonds. "Dammit! Whatcha want this time? Dirty? Playful? Naughty?"

"Surprise me."

"Okay. I like not doin' it in a bed." She probably knew that but he thought it bore repeating. They'd only made love in an actual bed a handful of times. Mostly it was in their blankets before the fire. In the truck ran a close second. But they'd done it lots of places. Inside. Outside. On or against pretty much every half way stable (and some not-so-stable) surface they could find inside and out. The wall. The floor. The shower. The kitchen table. Bricks in an alley. The rough bark of a tree. A picnic table.

Her smile was positively wicked. "Any favorites come to mind?"

"Oh yeah." His teeth flashed. "Bent over the back of the green couch at that place in Prince George. Hard enough to make your feet leave the floor." He watched her shiver. "That time on the porch swing was real good, too."

"I agree." That time had been soft and tender, the northern lights dancing overhead while they snuggled deep into a blanket and rocked together under the stars.

"I was thinkin' about addin' to the list."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Thinkin' of maybe gettin' a camper for the truck."

"You got a few from memory lane, sugar?"

A little color rose in his cheeks at that, but it was a testament to how far they'd come that he didn't dodge the question. "Yeah. Wanna have you in the little bed in the camper. Pretty much in all the ways you can think of. Really rock the hell outta the truck. A real good, thorough lovin'." She smiled. "And bent over the little sink, too. Hard enough to make you grab the faucet to keep yourself upright. I dunno why that one, but it's there too. That one's kinda rough around the edges."

"I definitely approve. That seals the deal for me, right there."

"Yeah?"

"Maybe we should look into putting a camper on the truck after the snow breaks."

"Sure." He nodded and tossed back his shot. "I don't like this part as much." The dislikes were harder.

"You wanna stop?"

"No. But I don't wanna hurt you, either."

Her expression grew soft.

"You won't." Her hand found his and she laced their fingers. "You just go when you're ready."

Logan took a deep breath. "I don't like it when you want somethin' specific but you won't ask for it straight out. I like that you're a little shy sometimes, you're wild, sure, but you're a good girl, baby. I just always wanna make it good for ya, give you whatcha need and sometimes I dunno exactly whatcha want."

She squeezed his hand. "Sorry."

"Don't be. It usually works out pretty good." It wasn't typically the wild stuff she was shy about. It was the emotional stuff. "I just wantcha to be able to ask me for anythin' you need. That's all."

"I can't promise I can give you that. Sorry. It's still hard for me sometimes. But I'll try, okay?"

"Deal."

Her naughty grin was back. "I like doing it other places than a bed, too."

"Yeah?" He chuckled when she nodded. "Where's the weirdest place you ever got off?"

"Alone or with someone?"

"Alone." He didn't like thinking about her with anyone else.

"On the eastbound span of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge in Maryland on a road trip with Jubes and Kitty."

"Jesus." His glass rattled as he set it down. "Details. Now."

"ABBA was blasting. They were up front, talking. I was in the back seat."

"How did they not fuckin' notice _that_?"

"ASO, sugar. Art of the Silent Orgasm." She giggled. "I couldn't help myself. I was really hot and bothered. Sitting with one foot sort of tucked up under me. I rocked a little on my heel. Between that and the vibrations from Jubes' crappy 1984 Camaro - that thing could shake your teeth out - I had a surprisingly good orgasm and nobody knew a damn thing."

"Goddamn." That- that definitely shocked him a little. She was a good girl, a nice girl. He couldn't imagine her doing that. Wanting that.

"Surprised you?"

"A little."

"Sugar, I had a really strong sex drive even before I got two helpings of your libido and the Wolverine's healthy disregard for pretty much any law but his own."

"Shit."

"It's all good. I mean, isn't that the kind of stuff you're supposed to do when you're a stupid teenager at the mercy of your hormones? I did it a lot. In the shower. In your old room at least once every time you left. In my bed while my roommates were sleeping. Those nearly killed me... just moving one finger barely enough. They took forever, but they were fucking amazing after that long a build up. I've always been hot blooded. The fact that I couldn't touch anyone only made it worse. Sometimes it was literally all I could think about."

He let out a low whistle. "Damn."

"You don't approve?"

"Nah. I do. I like it that you can match me there. I gotta real high drive too. Sometimes I'm so deep into you and so lost, so far gone that it's just about me." She particularly liked those times, though he still really didn't understand why. "I like that you know how to give yourself whatcha need because sometimes when you make it so good for me, I can't or don't. You've always been wild and passionate and impetuous. You wouldn't have gotten in my truck otherwise. There was always a bit of the Rogue in you, even back when you were just my Marie."

He could tell she really liked that. Her face brightened. "Thanks."

"You bet."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Weirdest place you ever got off?"

"Alone or with someone?"

"Alone." She saw him ease slightly at that.

"The Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium."

"You're making that up."

"Am I?" he smirked. "Alternatively, in the Nocturnal Animal Exhibit at the Memphis Zoo, in a muddy foxhole in a country that I'm not officially allowed to discuss, in the white chair in the living room at Graceland, and once in a canoe on the Yellowknife river." A low sound of amusement rumbled in his chest.

"Graceland? That's sacrilege!"

She wasn't wrong.

"I lost a bet."

"Must have been some bet."

"It was."

"And the zoo in Memphis?" Those two places both being in Memphis were too close to be coincidence.

"I tried for double or nothin'." He ignored her peal of laughter. "Neither of which even come close to toppin' you in the back seat of a shitty Camaro while two teenage girls jam to ABBA up front."

"I'm never gonna live that down, am I?"

"Nope."

"God, you're never gonna look at me the same way ever again."

"Definitely not. You're even hotter now than you were before." Her eyes widened slightly. "I like knowin' that you can want it like that. That you can be so hot for it you're willin' to break a few rules."

"Or chuck them out the window entirely, huh?" Her eyes glowed. "I was thinking about you in the Camaro."

"I was thinkin' about you in the canoe."

"What were you thinking about at Graceland?"

"Not gettin' arrested."

That made her laugh aloud.

"I fantasized about us other places, too."

"Yeah?"

"Sure. I have this thing about going back to places that were difficult for me and making a new, better memory there. Sort of like we're doing now on this trip. Those ones are only about you. The Blackbird. The train station. The torch. Your old room at the school." That time he squeezed her hand. "I even have one with us doing it in Jean and Scott's room. It's not very mature of me, and probably not very healthy either, but I still have it."

Logan understood that one completely. She wanted to claim in him in the most base, primal way she could. To warn off the rival female, even if it was only in her head.

"I have those, too. For me it was Alkali, which we covered pretty damn good the mornin' we left, plus Boston, Meridian, the Danger Room, and there's even one where I'm bendin' you over Chuck's fancy desk."

"Really?"

"Yeah. So don't feel bad about that one in Jeannie's room, huh?"

"I don't know..."

"Hey, I _still_ have one about fuckin' you in fronta One-Eye. I know it ain't right, but there it is." His chin lifted defiantly, belligerently.

"Wow."

Logan winced. "Too honest?"

"No. A good wow. I liked hearing it." Their eyes met. "I need to hear those things. I need to know they're in there somewhere. After everything, I need to know you want me that way."

"I do. Always. It ain't pretty or nice, but it's us, baby. We're never gonna be hearts and flowers."

"You're right. We're snowflakes and adamantium and porch swings and love that leaves bruises that nobody but us can see."

His heart glowed in his eyes. He kissed her slow and deep and then cut the cards. His king beat her nine. He poured two last drinks, aware their game was winding down. He needed to lie down with her somewhere soft. The fire crackled invitingly over his shoulder. The cabin they'd rented was small and warm. It would have been better if it'd had a porch swing, but it did have a hot tub and a sauna. They'd availed themselves of both.

"Last one, kid. Make it count."

"Hmm... I like _you_ , sugar. The total package. Playful. Tender. Primal. Snowflakes suspended from the ceiling. Sex that leaves the feel of teeth on my neck and fingerprints in the metal of your truck. Lazy mornings and making love by the fire. I like what's in your head and your heart. I like your thick cock and your big arms and how it feels when you hold me tight. Your taste. Your scent. How you feel inside me. I like it best when it's all of you, both of you loving me together; soft, intense, wild, rough, silly. However. I love you and I love the Wolverine part of you, too. I like it the most when it's a little wild, a little out of control. When it's all of you and all of me."

Logan felt his eyes burn. He touched his forehead to hers softly, a moment beyond words.

It was a while before they could untangle themselves to do their last shots.

"Dislikes?" he prodded gently.

"I don't want to ruin the mood. I feel so close to you right now."

"Tell me, baby. I told you."

"Logan..."

"You wanna stop?" She'd given him an out. It was only fair for her to have the same option.

Marie thought that over. She didn't really want to. He was right.

"I love how you are with me... but I don't like it when you hold pieces of yourself apart from me, especially when we make love. I know why you do it and I don't blame you for it. It's my fault. I'm not angry. Just sad. There've been a few times where you didn't do that- or at least not much. Those were the best for me. I'm just so sorry that I hurt you and I'm so thankful to have the chance to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you." Her eyes were wet.

"I don't do it to hurt ya, kid."

"I know."

"It ain't 'cause I'm worried about hurtin' you, you know, physically either. Not anymore. I just- Mmph."

"You want to stop?"

"No. It's hard, but I wanna lean into it, darlin'."

"Good."

"I dunno if it's you at all anymore. I just... I dunno how anyone could see all that, see how I really am and not have that change things." He took a deep breath. "If you turned from me now..." Christ, he didn't know what he'd do.

"Oh, sugar." She stroked his hair back gently from his face. "Of course it would change things."

His head reared back. He made a sound not unlike a whine.

"It would make them better. Deeper. Stronger. Richer." She pulled him from the couch and led him to the fire. They curled up in the blankets. He put his head on her chest, right over her heart and closed his eyes.

"I dunno..."

"I never want to make you feel bad about needing to do that. If you can never give me that, I'll still love you with all of me, okay? It's hard and it hurts, but I'm trying to embrace it. To lean into it. It's just... that's the core of what we are. Women, I mean. We want the man we love to lose himself in us. To give us everything. To lose control. To feel safe enough with us to let down every wall and let us see it all."

"God."

"There's something that changes in us when that happens. A bond so deep it can't be broken. I've never had that before, but I can feel it in me. Growing with you each time we're together. It's beautiful. I just feel little pieces of you apart from me sometimes and I wish I could make it better. I wish I could be good enough, safe enough, soft enough for you to trust me like that again."

He kissed her then because his heart couldn't hear another word. It was too raw. That wound was still healing. Things had been better, lighter since Alkali Lake. They were changing. _He_ was changing.

But Logan didn't know if he'd ever be able to give her that. He wanted to. He just wasn't sure if he could let himself be that vulnerable again. That deep need for self-preservation warred with his need to give Marie everything she needed to feel whole.

Thankfully, they had time. He didn't have to figure it all out now. Tonight he could just be a man enjoying his woman by the fire. He would join their bodies and their hearts as deeply as he could and the rest would sort itself out in time.

* * *

Up next: **The Dream**. From their bed in the camper to a hot tub under the night sky, a lingering dream ignites something neither of them anticipated...


	41. The Dream

Logan woke up beside her in the camper, gasping. Bolt upright, sweaty, with wild eyes and a desperate growl dying on his lips. The nightmares were coming less often now than they had in the beginning. This was the first dream to wake him since Alkali Lake. Five weeks. The longest stretch yet.

Marie's soft, tender hands smoothed him back down to the bed. "Shhh, sugar. I'm here. I'm right here. You're safe." He hadn't put the claws out. That was different. Usually they sprang out first and he woke after.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare ya, darlin'."

He eased back down and pulled her close, breathing her in deeply.

"You didn't." She rubbed his knuckles lightly. "You wanna talk about it?"

Sometimes he did tell her now. Not usually in great detail, but sometimes he could bring himself to share a few words after he calmed down.

"It wasn't what you're thinkin', but I'm not sure I wanna..."

"Hey, anything is okay. You know that. I want all of you," she whispered softly, still stroking his skin soothingly. "As much as you want to give."

"Even if it scares ya?" he queried softly.

"Yes. Anything."

It took him a few moments to come to some sort of internal decision.

"It wasn't that kinda dream," he allowed, finally.

"You sure? You sounded a little frantic."

Logan stared at the fire, letting the play of the flames over the vermilion coals soothe him. "I was. The baby was comin'."

"Oh." She held him closer. "I'm so sorry-"

"Not- not Kaya. I was dreamin' about _our_ baby. Yours and mine."

He'd shocked her into silence. It was a long time before she spoke again. "Our baby?"

"You sure you wanna hear this?"

"Yes," she said simply, intrigued by this shift in his dreamscape.

"I was dreamin' of you up at the cabin. You were so beautiful, belly big and round. Soft, full curves here and here," his hands wandered over her breasts and hips. "Hair down and all shiny around your face. You had it decorated on one side with a Blue Jay feather I'd found. Tied in just here." He stroked the hair by her ear gently. "You were laughing with me, all smilin' eyes and glowin' face. You were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

"Mmm..." she wanted to encourage him without interrupting the flow.

"It was summer. I could smell sage in the wind and the sun was makin' your cheeks pink and bringin' up the little freckles that always show over the bridge of your nose when you let the sun kiss ya like that."

"That's beautiful."

"We were just sittin'. Talkin'. Laughin' and playin' in the tall grass by the river. I was rubbin' your back and then you took my hand and your face changed, went real happy and real tender and you told me the baby was comin'."

"I did?"

"Mm-hmm. I wasn't scared, darlin'. I was excited. Nervous and worried for you, but mostly just excited. That's what woke me up. Nothin' bad."

She wrapped her arms around his strong, warm chest and held him tight, trying to process what he'd just told her.

"Too much?" he whispered into the silence.

"No."

"You're quiet."

"Thinking."

"About?"

"About having my IUD removed the next time we're back in Westchester."

That shocked him.

"Mmph." Now it was his turn to fall silent.

"Too much?"

"No. But you shouldn't make that kinda decision layin' here like this. If you still wanna in a few months when we get back, then maybe, yeah. But not when you're caught up in the moment. We got time."

"I've actually been thinking about it for a while now."

"You have?" She was full of surprises tonight.

"Yeah. We assume that we have all the time in the world because of our mutations, but we're really not guaranteed any more days that anyone else, you know? Nobody knows what the future holds. We're not invincible. I almost died in Erik's machine. You almost died in Japan."

"You're right. The technology exists right now to allow us to grow old together if we want that someday. To pass our gifts to someone else." He thought again of her round belly.

"I'm not ready to do that."

"Me either. Not for a long damn time. Maybe not ever. But I hear ya, okay?"

"I hear you, too."

"Good."

"Just- just so you know... this line of thinking's not really that new to me. I've been dreaming of having your babies for more than a decade. Since it was me writing our names together in my stupid notebook alongside my biology homework."

Logan sucked in a sharp breath. "Since then? So long?" He'd had no idea.

"Yeah. You were right to have waited. I was just a kid. I know that now. I was angry and it hurt me, but you were right in the end. It would have been good at first, all passion and fire, but we'd have torn each other apart eventually."

"We almost did anyway, even with a dozen years of miles on us both." They still might. Life came with no guarantees.

"Thank you for saving us from that. I know it hurt you to do it and it hurt that I blamed you for it, too."

Something big he hadn't even realized he'd been hanging onto fell away. He felt good. A little unsettled by the shift, but lighter in a good way. The change was profound.

"You got it, kid." He was quiet a long time after that before he added softly, "Thanks for sayin' that. I never blamed you for that, but it feels good to hear it."

"Why didn't you blame me for that? I sure did."

"Because you were a kid and I wasn't. That was on me, baby." He pressed a kiss into her hair. "But you ain't a kid anymore, so no more free rides, huh?"

She giggled into the darkness.

"Deal."

They fell quiet again, each following their own internal trail of thoughts the night's conversation had inspired. It was Marie who finally broke the silence.

"So, a Blue Jay feather, huh?"

"Yeah. The dream started with that, actually. That's how you got pregnant to begin with."

"Immaculate conception with a feather? Should I be worried? This is a down blanket..."

His rumbly laughter shook his chest against her and he swatted her under the covers with a playful smack followed by an affectionate squeeze. "No, darlin'. It started with you and me and a feather. On a blanket by the river."

"Mmm..."

"Heh. That little ticklish spot you have gets ya every time."

"But a _feather_?"

"Yep. You sound pretty interested. We need another pin, or what?"

"Maybe two."

"Two?"

"I'm not the only one in this bed who's ticklish, sugar..."

**~ooOoo~**

_I let it fall, my heart,_   
_And as it fell, you rose to claim it._   
_It was dark and I was over,_   
_Until you kissed my lips and you saved me._

Logan was pensive, staring up at the night sky as the hot tub bubbled around him. The steam left condensation on the cold beer he had in his hand. Across the small cedar tub, Marie sat holding her own beer as they watched the northern lights dance overhead, a brilliant fluid ribbon against starswept black. They were the same color as her eyes, a bright acid green that glowed with warmth and light; at times so bright even the snow around them appeared a luminous green.

Under the warm churning water, her feet were in his lap. Not stroking him suggestively, but intimately resting against his soft penis. A casual lover's touch that spoke of how close they'd grown over the last few months. His foot was between her legs too, the ball of his foot pressing lightly against her pubis. He could feel the soft hair tickling his skin. It was intimate without being overly sexual. The physical connection to her grounded him, even when his thoughts were somewhere in the aether.

She reached for Erik's gift and gently rattled the dog tag hanging against his wide chest. "Where are you, sugar? You seem a million miles away tonight."

"Thinkin'."

He'd been doing a lot of that since Alkali Lake. Whatever he was working through was big and complex. Marie didn't push for more. She'd learned it came out easier, smoother if he did it in his own time.

"Sounds good. It's a nice night for it." Relaxing and peaceful with the soft green light overhead. It was beautiful and slightly surreal, giving them the sense they had all the time in the world as reality flowed on around them.

"Yeah." He took another sip, enjoying how her eyes followed the line of his throat as he swallowed. She might not be actively trying to arouse him, but she wasn't unmoved by him either. "You?"

"Not a whole lot of thinking goin' on over here." That was unusual for her. Marie was a pretty introspective person. With all the minds within her own, she couldn't afford not to be. "I'm mostly just feeling filled up with good things tonight."

They'd made love before coming out to the small cabin's hot tub. It had been soft and sweet, which was also unusual for them. They typically tended towards wild and intense or playful and naughty with lots of talking either way. This time had been silent, with lots of sighs and slow, deep kisses. Her body was loose and relaxed, her mind hazy and quiet. She felt dreamy. Lazy.

Logan understood she meant more than just physically filled, though that was certainly a part of it. They'd been face-to-face and heart-to-heart the whole time, with her legs over his shoulders and his cock against her cervix. He couldn't keep the smug grin in and didn't even try.

She laughed quietly at the look on his face that seemed to say he was pretty damn pleased with himself for fucking her brains out. Or at least quieting them enough to bring her out of her head and completely into her body. He was the only one she'd ever trusted enough to do that.

"Good." He liked the way her contentment made him feel. Under the water, he stroked her instep with his free hand. She pinched his pubic hairs with her toes and gave them a soft, playful tug that made him chuckle. "Be good, kid."

"Pfff… Where's the fun in that?" She gave her toes one last impertinent wiggle against his squidgy flesh and then settled again, in deference to his mood. He wanted to think, not play.

"Heh."

They fell back into a comfortable silence. Marie was surprised later when he rose from the hot water, his muscular body steaming in the cold night air as he climbed out. He returned a minute later with two more beers, ready to talk.

She took the fresh beer from his outstretched fingers. "Thanks, sugar."

He nodded, settling back into the churning water. He sighed in bliss as the heat chased away the chill and put his foot back between her legs with a playful grin as she shivered. It was icy cold from the snow.

"Brrr!"

"Heh. Gotcha." He caught her feet and put them back in his own lap with a sound of male contentment.

"Payback, cowboy." It was a bitch. Her tone suggested he'd get his eventually. Another night she'd have used Bobby's gift to retaliate, but the mood wasn't right. They were in a slower rhythm tonight. More introspective and less playful.

"You up for talkin' a little, baby?"

"Sure," she kept her voice light, wondering what was on his mind. Usually he spoke more if she backed off and gave him a little space.

"Don't take this wrong, darlin', but somethin' you said's been buggin' the hell outta me for a while now and I'm still not sure how to explain it so it'll make sense to you, but I still wanna try."

Marie nodded, making an encouraging hum in her throat, not wanting to interrupt.

"That night- that first night you turned your skin on with me," the night he'd been such a dick about her first time with Scott. She remembered. "You said somethin' that I wanna answer back to."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You said you hated that I picked Jean first."

Marie winced, both at the sentiment and at the stark delivery of it outside of an emotionally charged situation.

"I did."

"Look. I can see why you think that. I really can. But it just ain't right. That's not how it was."

She debated on how much she wanted to say back to him. How much of the truth to reveal, in the end, she went with all of it. They were done running now. That had never worked for them. Only working hard on things made them better. It was slow, painful going, but they were making some big strides, one shaky step at a time.

"That's how it felt."

"I know," he said softly.

"You knew I wanted you. You knew I _loved_ you - hell _everyone_ knew it - and you still picked her first."

"No I didn't. I picked you."

"By sticking your tongue down her throat every chance you got?" she slapped at the water for emphasis. The words came out more sharply than she'd intended, honed by years of buried pain. Those had not been passionless kisses. That night in the woods by the Blackbird. In the medlab. As he held her body in his arms on Alcatraz. God knew how many more times there were that she didn't know about. "God, you were halfway to humpin' her brains out two seconds after she woke up in the medlab!"

"Hey-"

"Don't 'hey' me, sugar. I was there offering _all_ of myself, my body, my heart, my love - everything - and you still, very publically, chose the crumbs from St. Jean's table over me."

He was surprised by the vitriol in her heated words.

"That wasn't what I did."

"I call bullshit."

"I don't give a shit what you call it." His own temper flared. "You wanna hear this or not?"

"I do. But don't think I'm gonna sugarcoat how I feel about it to make it easier for you. We both know that doesn't work. If I have to live with it, so do you."

"Hmph." He took a deep pull off his beer. "I don't want you to sugarcoat anythin', kid. I like the truth, straight up- no chaser. Always have."

"Unless it's the truth about how I feel about you, huh? In that case you'd rather run like a scalded dog, or stick your head in the sand, or fall between the nearest set of open legs."

"You done?"

She eyed him petulantly over her beer. "Probably not."

Despite the seriousness of their conversation, he chuckled at her honesty. "Christ, I love your fire, kid. You're the only one who's ever stood toe-to-toe with me and gone the distance." In bed. Out. With words. With her fists. She was his equal in every way.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So listen up, huh?"

She might be angry and hurt, but she was still open to him. She hadn't taken her feet from his lap or pulled away or hidden behind that damned mask of hers that pissed him off so much. That they could have a deep talk like this without any of that happening spoke to how far they'd come together.

He'd pushed her hard this time and she'd answered him back with fire and emotion, but she hadn't gone for the jugular like she had that night in the hotel. She was hurt too. Her response had been defensive rather than offensive. Maybe a part of this was about that too. Maybe something in him needed to know she wouldn't hurt him again like that even if he pushed. He hadn't started this conversation with that in mind, but he was slowly discovering that leaning into the hard things had some unexpected benefits.

Marie nodded but said nothing, choosing instead to lift her beer to her lips and down a good third of it in one go. It wasn't as bracing as hard alcohol, but it helped a little.

"I dunno how to say it soft, darlin'."

"Just say it. I don't need the sugar either."

"I just wanna say I didn't pick her first. That ain't right. I picked you first." She opened her mouth to protest and he stopped her with a little squeeze to her feet. "I know you don't think that's what I did. I know I hurt you, but let me explain."

"Okay." She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Grudgingly.

"Look, we both know I coulda had you then." Her eyes went wide at that. "I know how it sounds, but it's true."

"It is," she admitted softly. She'd been ready to lay down with him since before he wrapped her fingers around his tags.

"I wanted to be first. You know I did." After that night he exorcised the memory of her first time with Scott, they both knew it. "But I wanted to be last more."

"Last?"

"This." He gestured to both of them. "I picked a shot at this - at forever - over somethin' that woulda burned hot and quick. We weren't ready. I was too fucked up and you were-"

"Don't say I was just a kid. You left for good when I was nineteen. I wasn't a kid then. Not like you mean."

"That's not what I was gonna say. You were just figurin' out who you were, baby, and what you wanted outta life. Learnin' how to fit in your skin. We woulda burned each other up. You said so yourself that night we talked about that dream I had with you fulla my baby. You and me- we're hard, kid. We woulda just been two metal gears chewin' each other up insteada clickin' like we do now. The timin' was all wrong. I didn't want that for us."

Her mouth opened and shut a few times as she tried to process that.

"And believe me, darlin'. That was the hard fuckin' choice to make. You think I didn't want the easy one? That I didn't wanna give in and take what's been mine since that first night at that bar in Laughlin?"

He could tell from the look on her face that's exactly what she thought. He was floored. How could she think that? "I-"

"Jesus. That's whatcha think, ain't it? That I didn't want you?"

Her eyes filled.

"C'mere, baby." He pitched their empty bottles into the snow and pulled her into his arms. "It wasn't ever that, kid. I wanted you so bad it made me shake. Made me untrustworthy. Made me afraid to sleep under Chuck's roof for fear that I was just one bad nightmare away from crawlin' into your bed. There were nights I didn't think I was strong enough to wait. There were nights I left because I wasn't. I know that hurt you."

"I hurt you too. I blamed you and that just made a bad situation worse."

"It did." He blew out a slow breath. "But in the end, I wasn't willin' to give up a shot at this, at what we have now, even for bein' first. I'm sorry that hurt you, baby. It hurt me too. But I'm not sorry for makin' the hard choice. Not havin' a shot at this woulda hurt more."

It was like someone had suddenly parted a curtain obscuring her from the truth.

"You really did pick me first, didn't you?"

"I did."

Even if she hadn't realized it until this moment.

"Thank you."

Logan nodded once, his eyes misty too. They kissed softly in the darkness. It tasted of salt and hops and honesty.

"I still dunno how to explain about Japan and Mariko." He hadn't yet worked that out in his own head.

"I think I do."

"Yeah?" That surprised him.

"I'm not jealous of her like I am about Jean. Maybe it's because I never felt like it was a contest between me and her the way it did with Jean."

"Oh, darlin'. It was never that."

"It felt like that. It still does sometimes."

"Still?"

"Yeah."

He held her tighter.

"But not with Mariko?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I think it's partly because I never met her and partly because she didn't hurt you like Jean did. Jean wasn't good for you. Mariko was. I don't resent her. I'm thankful. She was a blessing."

"She was. But pickin' her, that didn't feel like I wasn't pickin' you, ya know? But I can't explain why."

"I think maybe I can."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. That was _you_ picking _you_ , sugar. I'm not sure there would have been anything left of you to come back to me if you hadn't let someone in for a while."

He said nothing, but Marie felt the tension leave his body at that.

"I know you've spent most of your life alone. And you're strong, sugar. You are. But nobody can exist as an island forever. We both need people."

"Richard," he offered.

"Richard. Jubes. Hank. 'Ro. Mariko. Kaya."

"Chuck."

"Scott." Her voice was soft.

"Don't push your luck."

"How is that even the slightest bit fair?"

"It ain't." His voice was not at all apologetic, but his hands had begun roaming her curves. "I'm leanin' into this as best I can, baby. But some parts of me - the wildest parts - ain't ever gonna accept that." His eyes flashed gold. "He don't share."

Her arms twined around his neck. "I don't either."

It was a warning. She was staking a claim.

His teeth flashed white in the darkness. "Deal."

* * *

Next up: **The Thaw**. Eventually even the most unmovable glaciers melt… and when they do, they move mountains.

Also, Marie and Logan have sex.

Heh.

Oh, and Logan has pancakes... ;)


	42. The Thaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: We're getting down to the wire now in more ways than one! Assuming the bunnies don't mutate on me again, this one should clock in at 45 chapters. Whew! I'll do my best to keep posting them every other day, but it might be more like every two or three days. I have a massive project at work and three (!) tests to take in the next week. Chapter 43 is written. Chapter 44 just needs the sexytimes. (I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume you'd rather wait an extra day or two and have the nookie. Heh.) I'm half way finished with the last chapter... but after this long of a build up, I don't want to rush writing the end. There's still a lot left to say (no surprise there!) and I want to be sure I get it all out before the final curtain comes down! Now, onward!

"Why the hell didn't ya ever tell me you could cook like this before?"

Logan was digging into his third stack of pancakes, fried in the leftover grease from the hickory smoked maple bacon. He'd smothered them in butter and syrup and was practically orgasmic as he ate.

"Sugar, it's almost March. I've been cookin' for you for nearly four months now. I make this for you every Sunday morning whenever we stay in a cabin with a little kitchen." She had a deep look of satisfaction on her face; a southern woman feeding up her appreciative man. There was just something right about that that settled her deep inside, even though she'd left that life far behind a long time ago.

"I know that. I meant before. Back at the school."

She shrugged. "You weren't mine to feed up."

"Hey, we were always close."

"That's different."

"Different how?"

"Hey, where I come from, a girl doesn't cook like this for anyone who isn't family or about to be."

Logan stopped chewing. His eyes sparkled. "Did you just propose to me, darlin'?"

She blushed and swatted him. "Stop it."

"Heh." He leaned over, giving her a good long look that was just on the acceptable side of naughty leer. He wondered how far down that blush actually went. She was only wearing one of his shirts, buttoned casually between her breasts, with the sleeves rolled up. She had flour on her cheek and smelled delicious, like fresh snow, bacon and him. It made a man feel good. Warmed inside and out. A good woman. Good lovin'. Good food. A good road. He took another bite and grinned. "S'real good."

"Thanks."

"We are family, you know."

"I know." Her eyes were warm and soft.

He dug the chunk of adamantium she'd reshaped into a Zippo lighter from his pocket and set it on the table between them.

"When we're ready to make it official, I wantcha to make us two rings outta this."

He'd surprised her. He saw her eyes widen in shock.

"You- you saw that?" That night at Alkali she'd formed it into two rings, thinking of the future.

"Yeah."

"I didn't mean to presume-"

"I know that. You were alone, just thinkin' aloud."

"You saw the crane too?"

"Yeah."

That said it all, really.

"I want a flat wide band. Inscribed, if you can."

"With what? Property of Rogue?" Her eyes danced.

He shook his head.

"Always, throughout all time."

Her chest felt tight.

"Are you in danger of becoming a romantic, cowboy?"

"Nah." He slapped her ass and pulled her down into his lap. "We're never gonna be hearts and flowers, kid. That ain't us." He kissed her and then pinched her butt with a dirty grin. "But if you're a good girl, I might letcha put "Property of Rogue" on one of the claws…."

"The middle one?" she teased back. "It gets the most use."

He rolled his eyes. "You're a real piece of work, kid."

**~ooOoo~**

"Lo-o-gan!" His hands held her hips firmly. She was laughing and squirming around all over. She usually wriggled like that when it was really good for her but he had a job to do. It was just little soft sucking licks now, helping her come down. Her hand flailed and found his head, dragging him from between her legs by the hair. He slid up her body, grinning smugly the whole way.

"Hey! Ow! I know my hair regenerates, but damn, baby."

Marie lifted her head and licked his glossy chin before nipping his bottom lip playfully. His nose and cheeks were wet, too.

"Mmm…."

She liked the way she tasted.

"Grrrrrr….." Her natural sensuality fired his blood.

"You like that, sugar?"

He licked his lips, nodding. "Tastes like it was a real good one, baby."

"Damn good," she purred at him; a giggle that ended on a happy sigh.

He loved having her that way. It tickled that raw, primal place deep in his brain. There was something he really liked about being overwhelmed by her rich scent and taste. Holding her down while she thrashed was part of it too. Something about that excited him. They both liked penetrative sex best, but bringing her to orgasm with his mouth was a close second.

Even better than that was how she reached for him after he slid up her body, hands outstretched, little fingers wiggling in earnest excitement, beckoning him to come closer. Nobody had ever wanted him like that before. She'd once told him that was a mannerism left over from her childhood. That she'd always reached for the best things that way; her mama when she was a baby, the teddy bear she'd slept with until she was twelve, Christmas presents.

That she did it with him now, unconsciously, made his chest feel warm. It was like she couldn't keep her desire to have him close contained. Her joy leaked out in all kinds of ways that made him damned glad to be her man; in the wiggling of her fingers, the sparkle in her eye, the smile on her mouth, the silvery laughter that rang out in their bed, loudly and often.

"I'm here, darlin'."

He moved over her, enjoying the feel of her hands on his skin as they mapped his warm, strong chest and dug into the thick muscle. She liked the hair... on his chest and belly, and under his arms. On his forearms too. Marie often gripped him there when he was braced over her, thrusting deep. She liked the rasp of hair and to feel the play of his unique musculature under his skin as he moved.

Today it was especially light and playful. He'd never laughed and played in bed with a woman until her. Not in all the years he could remember. Amusement rumbled in his chest as she leaned up and licked his flat male nipple. It became a groan as she used her teeth. He liked a little pain; the sting of fading teeth marks, the sharp pull of her fingers in his hair, and those little chains of bruises she left that healed even as she worked him.

She liked it too; the warm burn of an open-palmed smack on her cute little butt. The rough drag of his stubble over a sensitive nipple. Sucking, shivery bites. The crash of their bodies when he thrust deeply with an impact that made her gasp. The burning stretch as he filled her.

He was surprised to discover he enjoyed the laughter almost as much. Playing silly lover's games. Wrestling and tickling. Blowing raspberries. Giggling at a crude joke or rude sound. Dressing up. (Logan's old beat-up cowboy hat made a regular appearance in bed.) Playing odd or even. Marie would grab a pinch of chest hair and pull as they roughhoused. She'd tease him into calling out odd or even and then count the hairs after. If he was wrong, she'd go in for another pinch. If he was right, she'd do anything he asked.

_Anything_.

That sure as hell was worth a bit of pain. Not that she'd refuse him anyway, she was generally up for whatever he wanted to try, but it was fun to laugh and roll around with her first. And when she wanted to play that game, it was usually an indication she wanted him to ask for something wilder than usual. Once or twice he'd even turned the tables on her and ordered her to choose odd or even as he grabbed a pinch of her hair with a wicked grin while she gasped and tried to pry his hand from between her legs. Playing with her that way made him feel close to her in a different way than sex did, and he was surprised to find he liked it.

"C'mere, sugar." Her slender reaching fingers walked over his skin, pulling him closer and closer with each step.

Those sweet little knees were already coming up. That was a clear sign, right there.

"Y'ready for more?"

She tugged him down until his forearms were on the bed on either side of her head and she had his full weight on top of her. "Yes. Like this…."

"Mmmm…." Her body felt so small and soft under his, soft but strong. When she arched she could lift them both clear of the bed. She was still giggly and a little out of it. Muscles not quite responding to her commands just yet. There was a beautiful sex flush warming her ivory cheeks and chest a rosy pink.

"I want to taste you too, but I can't wait." Her knees came up higher in invitation and her fingers pulled at his hair. "Please, sugar… please…"

He levered up off her and slid a hand between them. She fought him, not wanting to lose the weight of his chest on hers.

"Shh…." He worked himself in his fist a few times and then wiped away the resulting trickle of slippery fluid with his thumb before rubbing it over her full bottom lip.

She licked her lip. "Mmm… sweet…"

A growl of approval rumbled in his chest seeing her savor his most intimate taste.

He felt her small feet slide up his torso. Her left foot slid into his armpit and she grabbed the short hairs with her toes, pulling and tickling.

"Lo-o-gan. Come _on_ … Quit teasing."

"Says the girl with her foot in my armpit? Jesus!" He turned and bit her instep with his sharp, even teeth. She squirmed. He slid decadently against her wet folds. They were both still laughing as he sank into her with a firm, solid thrust. Sliding in on the same glossy heat that still glistened on his chin. "Umph!"

"God!"

"Heh."

"What?"

He pulled out and thrust back in before she was really ready. They both liked that. Tight and shivery. A good hurt.

"I've never done it when I was laughin' this hard before." It was fun and a little strange, but definitely good. Those earnest little hands were pulling him back close, chest to chest. Wanting all of his weight. That always surprised him a little but he gave it to her, enjoying her cheerful hum of contentment as he pressed her into the bed.

He made a spontaneous decision in that moment to ask her to turn on her skin when he came. They'd talked about it a few times, but this wasn't something he'd planned. It just felt right in the moment. He was happy. Lighter than he'd been in months. He didn't tell her. He knew she might be a little nervous and he didn't want it to spoil her orgasm. But he wasn't about to give up what he wanted either.

"Is that a good thing?"

He snorted. "I dunno about you, kid. But it's fuckin' doin' it for me." It wasn't wild sex but it was deep and intense. She'd been asking for that a lot lately. Really deep. As close as they could possibly be. Raw and primal. A slow grind rather than a hard pounding.

"Mmm…." she pulled him closer still. He smiled against her neck and adjusted his hips so that he was hitting all her sensitive spots just right as they rocked together. "Oh!"

"Heh."

"Smug bastard."

"Yeah." His smile got wider and then his whole body shuddered as she clenched around him, rhythmically, with purpose. "Unnngh! God!" He bucked and twisted, enjoying the rough rasp of damp hair between their heaving bodies. "Y'feel so good."

"Tell me what it feels like."

Wet? Hot? Tight? All of them applied and none of them were right.

"Feels like…. home," he murmured against her skin as he dropped his head and started a deep, rolling rhythm.

She'd been expecting something delightfully honest and a little crude. The heartfelt confession moved her deeply. "You are home. You belong here. With me. In me. I love you so much…"

"Yes! Umph!"

Those little fingers he loved so much were everywhere. His neck. Sinking into his shoulders. Pulling at his back, his powerful hips. Digging into his backside, urging him deeper. Running along his forearms. Twining with his fingers. Touching his mouth. Slipping inside.

He was surprised to feel them pushing at his chest. He hadn't expected that. She was pushing him away? Now?

"Baby?"

"I wanna see you…"

"Oh. Heh." He liked feeling close to her but he liked that she wanted to watch, too. To see him loving her.

He sank deep and then levered himself up, still buried as he adjusted the fit, bringing one of his knees up for leverage.

She wasn't the first woman who'd ever asked him for that, but she was the first one who kept her eyes on his face when she did. She wanted to see into him. To see all of him shining out at her.

"You're so beautiful to me, sugar…" her voice hitched as he withdrew and thrust in at a new angle. "You make me so satisfied. It's so deep... so good… and- OH!" He had the angle just right now.

Hearing her say it was almost too good.

"That's the way, darlin'. Stay with me..." His eyes were smiling.

Hers were soft and warm, sparkling with laughter and with love.

Pushing himself up a little more, he touched the seam of their joined flesh and then caught her eyes, tasting his wet fingers with a groan. He groaned louder when she stole his hand and sucked the two thick glistening fingers into her own mouth. She swirled her tongue, humming out her pleasure to him before nipping him hard enough that he grunted and swatted her thigh with a rough chuckle.

"Brat."

"You know you like it…"

He did.

"Yeah." His smile was positively wolfish.

She tightened up around him again and he shuddered.

His head dropped and he panted through the urge to come. His hair fell forward, long enough now to brush his chin as his head came up; eyes flashing gold and a growl rising at the look of naked want on her face.

But then her arms reached up for him and those sweet wiggling fingers beckoned him closer. He fell into her arms, laughing as he did because he was just too damn happy to keep it in. But as good as that was, he couldn't hold out much longer. Not with her working him so good with those strong internal muscles. Not when her head was beginning to toss from side to side and her movements were beginning to grow jerky and uncoordinated as he pushed her closer to the edge.

He knew she wanted all of his weight, but he stayed braced above her just enough to watch her face.

"Look at me."

Her eyes opened and locked to his. The playfulness bled away, leaving only warmth and desire. She whimpered against his lips, her breathing shallow and erratic. She didn't grunt or cry out or call his name. She was in that place beyond words.

Though they were both usually pretty vocal in bed, he said nothing else. No encouragement. Not to issue an order. Not to tell her to come. Not even to growl out his own pleasure. He simply held her eyes and gave her all of himself, watching as her gaze grew unfocused. He was completely present while her body shuddered and clenched around him as she came. Drawing him deeper. Drawing him home.

"Beautiful girl."

She let out a shuddering breath and her body went slack beneath his. "Logan?"

It was the first time they'd made love like this that he hadn't followed her over within moments.

"Love watchin' you," he panted out. His eyes were soft but his body was tightly wound with unspent desire and his rhythm was beginning to falter.

"You didn't?"

"Close, baby," he grunted out. "Real close now."

"Come on…. I want to see you too… come in me. I love that so much… come on, sugar..."

If he had any doubts about what he wanted to do, her impassioned words burned them to ash.

He nodded.

"I need-" his voice hitched.

That got her attention. Need? He rarely expressed himself in that way.

"Tell me, sugar."

His body shook with the effort of holding back.

"When I tell you- when I come, I wantcha to turn it on."

Her skin? Was he crazy?

He felt the shock ripple through her and it only pushed him higher.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

"Logan…"

"I need this. Unngh! Close. Close now. Please, baby."

She nodded, worried but not wanting to deny him.

He thrust deep.

"Now," he growled as he felt himself begin to spurt, pushing up off her so the only place their skin touched was where they were intimately joined.

Marie flipped the switch on her skin.

He came hard, laughing and roaring and cursing as his body shook and juddered. His face twisted, wracked with spasms that looked to her like pain rather than pleasure. Her heart sank.

She turned it off, afraid she was hurting him.

"NO! On! ON!" It was too good, too much. Too intense but he didn't want it to stop. Not yet. He needed more.

He felt it flip back on - felt the electric tingle reach under his skin and rip and flow; a sear like fire. A brand. A good hurt. His come, his life, his essence and power flowing into her while his body strained above her, giving her everything.

His bellow became a snarl, half-agony and half-desire, as what her skin pulled from him lit her up from the inside. Love and acceptance and raw, carnal pleasure. His orgasm roared into her and she came again, shocked. Eyes wide, hips arching. Lifting them both from the bed, panting and shouting.

He crashed down next to her when it was over, chuckling and holding his spent cock protectively in his hand. That had been intense. The world swam. He shook his head trying to clear it, on the dimmer side of consciousness, and allowed the strange feeling to wash over him. It wasn't at all how he had imagined it would be. The pleasure had been too intense, even for his miraculous body, but he had leaned into it, into her, and forged a profound emotional connection.

"Yuh." Marie tried again to form a coherent word, her thoughts a jumble of rolling chaos in the wake of what she'd pulled from him. "Y- you okay?" She drew in a shaky breath. She was terrified she'd hurt him, despite the wide smile on his face and the strong echoes of his pleasure rippling through her body.

"Fuck yeah." He palmed her thigh. That he didn't even ask her if her skin was off before he did so moved her deeply. She'd just short circuited his body in the most intimate way imaginable and he still had zero apprehension about touching her. In fact, he actively sought her out, even now.

"I didn't hurt you?"

"Hell, no." He squeezed her lightly. He felt amazing. Empty and full. Hazy. Light. Happy. Free. Tingly and blissed out.

"You okay, you know, up there? He pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Mmm hmm…." Her sigh was pure satiation. "It's a lot up there. So strong and good. I loved feeling you that way. So close. On the outside and the inside, too."

"I liked it real good too."

"Good."

"Made ya come," he observed, a lighter tone in his voice now.

"Boy, howdy! It sure did, sugar." She turned to look at him, head lolling bonelessly, little fingers still reaching out to him even now. He laced their hands together.

"I didn't know that would happen." To be honest, aside from assuring himself that she wouldn't be hurt by trying it, he hadn't thought much about what it would be like for her. It had simply been enough that she was open to the idea.

She giggled. "Really? That's the best you got? You pushed your orgasm into my head. What did you think would happen?"

"Heh. Not that. But I sure as hell ain't complainin'." Giving his overstimulated penis one last comforting squeeze, he rolled back on top of her and settled between her legs, enjoying the slick residue of their lovemaking against his spent flesh. "Did it scare ya?"

She shook her head. "It was good. I could feel all of you. Everything." He winced and she laid a hand on his hairy jaw. "It was really good for me. Intense. I liked it but I'm- I'm not sure I want to do that very often. It was a lot."

"I hear ya." It had been like that for him, too. Good, but almost too much.

"It was a little overwhelming, but I really liked it. I could feel you come. Feeling it made me come. I could feel you all around me and in me, in my body and my head….and I just really, really liked having so much of you."

He smiled. "Back atcha, darlin'." His heart had never felt so full, so light.

"I really didn't hurt you?"

Logan shook his head. "No, baby. No. It was real intense, like you said. Kinda like after you come when you're too sensitive to be touched... but all over. Except I wanted the touchin'. Bad. It only hurt when you stopped."

"Really? Wow."

"Heh."

They fell silent for a while, his head cradled against her soft breast. Her fingers stroked his hair, brushing it back from his sweaty face. After a while, he lifted his head and met her eyes. They both spoke at once.

He said, "I forgive you."

She said, "I love you."

Logan was as surprised by the words as Marie was. He felt like the whole afternoon had been a snowball gaining momentum as it hurled down the mountain. From sex and playing, feeling light and happy and laughing in bed to his spur-of-the-moment decision to ask her to turn her skin on.

_I forgive you_.

The words had just popped out on their own. But they felt good. Right.

"I don't mean what we just did. That I liked real good. I mean for everythin'. All of it, kid. I don't wanna live one more day where it ain't all of you and all of me because I'm too fuckin' stubborn to let go of somethin' that was over a long damn time ago. I don't wanna be a part of somethin' that hurts ya."

He thought she'd be happy and was surprised to see her face dissolve into tears.

"Baby?"

His soft question only made the tears fall faster. She buried her face in his neck and held him tightly, so moved by what he'd said in an unguarded moment that she forgot to temper her strength until she felt him suck in a sharp breath and hum a warning against her. Her fierce grip eased.

"Marie?"

She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, giving him a watery smile. "Sorry. It's just emotion coming out. I just… I never-"

"Never what?" He stroked her nape softly.

"Never thought I'd have that. That you'd ever forgive me for what I did."

"I didn't think I could either. I dunno what's changed. But I can. I do. Everythin' is different now. Better. Brighter. I don't wanna hang onto that anymore or take a chance on it fuckin' up what we have now."

She understood what he meant. He meant brighter inside. The darkness they'd lived in for so long had been burned away. He'd finally embraced the light and let it shine in him too.

"Thank you." The words were soft and low and came up from the soles of her feet. "Thank you for giving us that and for not giving up on us."

He nodded. "All of you and all of me, darlin'. Everythin'."

"That's what I want, too. That's all I've ever wanted. I want it here," she touched his chest and then hers. "And when we're ready to make it official, that's what I want inscribed on my ring."

He liked that. Liked that she didn't just immediately want the same thing he did on his ring. She'd never been a follower. She was powerful in her own right and she wanted the words that meant the most to her next to her skin.

The Wolverine had chosen his mate well.

* * *

Up next: **The Mates**. The Wolverine and the Rogue. Their first time. A violent, cathartic night that's been more than a decade in coming…


	43. The Mates

Marie stood on the porch of their rental cabin, watching the sun begin to set as she zipped her flight jacket and thought about where she might want to go tonight while Logan was meditating. She generally kept to herself, out of sight during her evening flights. It wasn't smart to invite trouble or curious eyes, but that still left a lot of options. She was debating between the sunset over the nearby lake or along the deep gorge where the setting sun had lit the water below into a river of fire when Logan joined her on the porch, wearing his coat and gloves.

That caught her attention immediately.

"Sugar?"

"Thought you might want some company tonight, darlin'."

She smiled. Since Alkali, he'd asked to come along a few times now. It had never been as wild and crazy as the first time they flew together pushing her limits, but it was always an adventure and it felt good to share that private part of herself with him. It felt even better that he wanted to know all of her. They'd joined the mile high club together over Kluane Lake. That had felt pretty damn good, too.

"Sure." She flushed with pleasure. "You want me to wait until you're done meditating?"

He shrugged lightly.

"Nah. Thought maybe you might wanna meditate together after."

His soft invitation drew a quick breath from her and a slow, curious smile. He occasionally meditated in front of her now, but he'd never asked her to join him before. That was new. And welcome. She hadn't meditated with anyone since Tibet. She missed it.

He mistook her stutter of surprise for apprehension.

"Hey, no pressure, baby."

"No. I'd like to. I'd really like that, sugar." The pleasured showed on her face and spiked her scent towards the warm spice he recognized as pure joy.

"Yeah?" His eyes sparkled as he came closer, fingering the silly 'Don't Eat Yellow Snow' patch on her left shoulder.

"Yeah." Her arms crept around him. "You sure?"

"Heh. Do I look like a man who don't know what he wants?"

There went that eyebrow of his.

"Nope."

He pulled her against him firmly, enjoying the impact of their bodies crashing together.

"Good. There might be hope for you yet, kid."

 

**~ooOoo~**

They were in line at the grocery store stocking up on essentials before the next leg of their trip north. Marie was fidgeting in front of him, distracted. Her mind was not on food and toiletries.

The burning glance she threw back at him over her shoulder punctuated what her scent was already telling him. There were a few days each month, her most fertile days, when she was wild for it, for _him_. They generally tried to avoid civilization on those days but real life was rarely convenient. It seemed to be getting stronger the closer they grew. It still embarrassed her and she tried to control it, but the more she did, the wilder the urge grew until the spark became a flashover and burned them both to ash.

He moved closer and she shivered.

The searing look she turned on him was nothing sort of incandescent. That scent just did something to him, something primal. He couldn't control it even if he wanted to. He responded to the invitation in her eyes and her scent instinctively, leaning in to bite her hard on the shoulder.

The cashier; a young disinterested boy with emo hair, pimples and a nose that was clearly a nod to his Tlingit heritage, coughed and looked away as Logan growled, threw a few bills down on the counter and grabbed the bag before hauling Marie out of the little hole-in-the-wall store.

"Truck. Now."

They drove around to the woods in back. She had his pants open and was sinking down on him with a gasp before he'd even put the truck in park. It was fast and wild and it was all Logan could to do keep up. Marie had been halfway gone before they'd even made it to the truck.

"Mmm! Sugar, yes!"

"Come on, baby. That's it. Fuck me…"

"Unnngh!"

"Fuck yourself on me."

"God!"

"Good girl. Ride me baby. Get whatcha need… Go on! Harder!"

"Unnnggh! God! Logan!"

She came, grunting and shouting his name before collapsing against his chest with a shaky sigh.

"Goddamn, darlin'."

Marie picked up her head, cheeks flushed and sweat shining on her temples and upper lip. "Sorry." He was still hard and throbbing inside her. She hadn't been able to wait.

"Fuck that. Don't ever be sorry for wantin' it like that."

"But you didn't…"

"Come? Jesus. Any girl who can ride a man like that can say the words, baby."

He enjoyed the blush that spread down her neck and chest.

"You're just saying that to make me blush."

"I'm sayin' it because it makes me hot as fuck."

"The riding or the blushing?"

This time there was no blush, just the Rogue staring back at him, a sultry smile playing on her full lips as she teased him.

"Heh." He swatted her, enjoying the way she jumped and squirmed against him. "Both."

"What about you, cowboy? What do you want now?"

Outwardly he seemed fine, but that little tic in his jaw and the way his hazel eyes were sliding toward gold told her he was damned close to the edge.

He looked at her, head cocked, thinking. She could clearly see him weighing his options and trying to decide if he should tell her or not.

"Tell me, sugar. More like this? On my back on the seat? On my knees in front of you?" She knew he wouldn't want that. Not now. When she was like this he always wanted to come inside her. "I wanna give you whatever you need. Whatever it is. Just tell me..."

Her rich, earthy scent was driving him wild, telling him to push inside and plant his seed deep. He had a hard time keeping a lid on things at the best of times. It was harder when she was slick and open and ready to receive him. Her body screamed for his and he answered.

"Go get in the back. Strip. I wantcha on your knees, chest flat on the bed. Legs apart. Waitin'."

"Oh, God!"

The world spun a little.

"I can't make it be about you," he warned with a low growl. "Not smellin' the way you do. Not after what we just did…" He was quickly losing ground but he had enough presence of mind to warn her first.

She climbed off him and they both groaned as she uncoupled them too quickly. "Good. That's how I want it, sugar."

Something in him seemed to tick over.

He gave her a predatory leer and then nodded. "No backtalk. No lip. You got two minutes. Then I'm gonna come back there and fuck the hell outta ya. Get your ass movin', darlin'. Now."

She moved.

He followed.

 

**~ooOoo~**

The night was cold and dark. Overhead, the milky way was a dazzling purple band filled with glittering stars. Steam rose around them both from the natural hot springs. They were soaking leisurely. Whispering in the dark and relaxing in the rocky pool and discussing the female ghost who was said to haunt the upper floors of the main lodge.

They'd drifted into silence, her back against his chest and his arms around her as they looked up at the night sky.

She moved her foot against his leg, enjoying the wet rasp of hair under the silky water.

"Logan?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think things will change when we're back in the world? When it's not just us anymore?"

"You ready to go back, or scared of what'll happen when we do?"

"I'm not sure scared is the right word. I'm not really ready to go back yet but I'm starting to miss Jubes and Hank. I'd already been off the reservation a while when you found me and I'd been undercover before that. I haven't seen everyone in nearly a year. Kitty's expecting again, too. She's not due for a few more months, but I'd like to be there for it if we can."

"Mmph. Boy or girl?"

"Another boy. Her third. She's already complaining about living in the house of testosterone. She made a frilly girly guest room. She wants me to come help her out after the birth. I think it was her way of balancing out the G.I. Joes, transformers, legos and dinosaurs that are constantly underfoot."

"Heh."

"I was just, you know, not sure how you felt about the rest of the world intruding."

"I know I said I wasn't ready to share ya just yet, but that was months ago." He felt her nod against his chest. Things were better now. They had balance and trust and finally some good miles walked together. "I still like it best when it's just you and me. Hell, I've liked it that way since fuckin' Laughlin' City."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"I didn't know that."

"No reason for you to. It wasn't the best thing for either of us. Not then, anyway."

"And now?"

"Now it's different."

"Different how."

"I've never been a joiner, baby. That ain't who I am. I only stayed at the school because of the promise I made to you on the train."

She picked her head up at that and tried to turn in his arms but he settled her back against him and caressed her under the water absently.

"Wow. I knew neither of us really felt like it was home, but I didn't know that's why you stuck around."

She should have known that. The night he'd asked her to sever that bond, he'd left and never looked back.

"Somethin' in me always knew you were the one, kid."

"A growly badass somethin'."

She thought he'd laugh but he was thoughtful instead.

"Not just him. Somethin' in the rest of me knew too."

"Back atcha, sugar."

"Heh. I could stand to see everyone for a while. Maybe after we hit Fairbanks we should think about headin' back, huh?"

"Yeah, maybe. But not, you know, like in a hurry. I think we still need time, sugar."

"You do?" He thought they did, too, but was surprised she did as well.

"Don't you?"

"Yeah. I think it's gonna be hard." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "But I wanna lean into it with you." He felt her laugh rumble against his chest.

"Isn't that my line?"

"Belongs to both of us now, darlin'."

"I like that. I think what we're doing now- we need it….. after- after everything." She felt him squeeze her gently in acknowledgement of their rocky history. "We need the strongest foundation we can make before we let anyone else in, you know?"

"Me too."

"Sounds good to me, sugar."

"So I was thinkin' maybe we should head back when you're ready. I think I could keep from clawin' the firecracker, at least for the summer and the fall. But I was thinkin' maybe we oughta bug out before winter sets in up here."

"Yeah? You got any place in particular in mind, cowboy?"

"Yep."

His cabin. He didn't have to say it. They both knew what he was offering. Not a fairy tale this time. It was real now and so deep it shook them both.

Her heart was beating very fast.

"That is if ya think you could stand bein' snowed in with my grumpy ass for a few months, kid."

"Hey, I fly remember?"

Logan's rough chuckle rolled out over the water.

"Heh. So you wanna?"

"I wanna."

He squeezed her tightly. There were no words.

Silence fell between them once more. Logan sort of thought they were done, but Marie's hand tightened on his.

"I could ask Hank to take my IUD out before we leave for the winter…. if we wanted."

Logan sucked in a deep breath.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. That'd be just right, I think."

"Just right for…?"

"For a big round belly in late summer," she said softly.

"My dream," he whispered back to her.

She nodded. It was her dream now, too.

"If you're ready."

"I'm ready."

"Me too," Her touch grew playful. "So you can consider this me givin' you notice to put your blanket and your Blue Jay feather on standby, sugar."

"You got it, kid."

 

**~ooOoo~**

The third time Marie saw the Wolverine fight was just outside of Beaver Creek. She'd been feeling it build under his skin for days.

This time was different. There was an underlying wildness in him that hadn't been present at the previous two fights. She wondered if it was because they were bonded in a different way now; true mates in every sense of the word.

Marie liked the change. It excited her.

The fighting was brutal. It was by far the ugliest round of fights she had seen. Dirty and raw, bloody and punishing. There were a few obvious mutants in the crowd this time and one or two in the cage, too. One had stone fists. Another bled black.

The Wolverine beat them all.

He stood alone at the end, savagely beautiful in his primacy.

His woman's wild green eyes were on him. She'd never looked at him like _that_. Like she was ready to tear apart anything that stood between them in her haste to claim what belonged to _her_.

The man had never dared let her near a fight when her scent had been like this. She was slick and open, her body soft and ripe. Not temptation. Not enticement. It was deeper than that. More base. Something feral hardwired into both of them, something beyond the limits of human endurance.

They left the dirty alley and the truck behind for a small, shady motel room across from the bar.

There could be no witnesses to this baring of souls.

All of him and all of her. It was everything stripped bare. Every vulnerability. Every dream. Every dark twisted fantasy. Every primal instinct. Every fiber of what they hid from the world, from each other, and from themselves. All of it exposed in one violently cathartic night.

Marie was the first to wake afterwards. Even with the healing, her body was sore and felt well-loved. The room was completely destroyed. Chairs overturned. The table and dresser smashed. Dents in the walls. The shower curtain had been ripped away and the bathroom mirror was cracked. The lamp was overturned on the floor, the naked bulb blinking against the scorched carpet. The bed frame was broken and there were the three distinctive vertical lines - claw marks - carved into the walls in several places. There was even a set in the ceiling.

That memory made her smile.

The room stank of smoke and sex and sweat and the coppery scent of blood under the sharp bite of whiskey. A half-drunk bottle had spilled and formed a black pool on the dirty brown carpet.

Their clothes lay in shreds on the floor. He'd cut them from her without remorse, licking the blood from her skin where he'd nicked her in his haste to divest her of her coverings. There was blood in the shower and the sheets, too. His and hers. She had been just as wild, biting and scratching; her passion no less ferocious than his had been.

He'd held nothing back.

Nothing.

It was the first time she'd needed to use her powers to keep from being crushed under the force of his desire. She'd been telling him for months that she wanted all of him, and he'd finally listened. Finally trusted her enough to give her everything. It had allowed her to give him all of herself in return.

Their first time.

The Wolverine and The Rogue.

Every last raw, unflinching bit of them both.

Marie smiled into the early morning light, taking stock of her body the same way she had of the surrounding room. Her body was not wrecked, it was loved. It was flawless and smooth, miles of unmarked white skin, but she could feel the recently healed bruises underneath. Marks from his teeth and his claws and from the crash of his heavy body thudding into hers.

She reeked of him. It drew another smile and the tentative brush of her fingers. Her body was still slick with the residue of their lovemaking. The scent of his semen was strong, between her legs, her hands, her face. It was in her hair and glazed her thighs. His sweat and saliva was all over her. Her own intimate scent marked him too. His fingers and mouth and thick, sleeping cock all carried traces of her carnal touch.

There were little smears of blood too and cuts in the sheets that had been half torn from the bed. It made her laugh to see the comforter had been ripped off and tossed aside like always. They'd been wild and out of control, but they were still themselves. Still Logan and Marie under it all. There had been sweetness and tenderness, too.

Her soft laugh made Logan begin to stir and she worried now how he might react when she told him what had happened. She was afraid he'd regret what they'd done or be so disturbed that he'd never do it again. It wasn't their usual kind of lovemaking. It had been too intense for that, but it was the first time she ever really felt like she was completely his in every way.

She kissed and nuzzled him, wanting his focus to be on them as he woke and not on the wreckage surrounding them. Her fingers stroked his hip and then curled around his thick cock, rubbing gently as she hummed against his neck. She kept her touch light. His flesh was probably tender, too.

"Mmm…."

"Hey, darlin'."

"Mornin', sugar."

The soft hand between his legs grew more insistent. Marie thought maybe telling him what had happened while they were making love might help soften the blow a little.

Logan allowed the touch, letting her stroke him hard before nudging her leg up a little and sliding inside, his passage eased by the lingering traces of their earlier lovemaking.

"Umph."

She sucked in a breath at the slow inward slide. "Oh!"

He slowed but didn't stop until she had all of him. She loved that he didn't treat her like spun glass. He knew what she needed.

"Hurt ya?"

"A little. But a good sore."

He felt her little wriggling fingers walk over his back and smiled at her.

"Me too."

The look in her eyes was soft. "Did I hurt you?"

He rolled his eyes and snorted softly, clearly amused by her question. His ribs hurt some and so did his left arm, but he'd heal.

He turned his head to look at the room and she put a restraining hand on his cheek, guiding his face back to hers.

"Stay with me, sugar."

"Is it that bad?"

The sex was slow and gentle.

"Not a single bit of it was bad. Make love to me and I'll tell you after…. while you're still inside me."

"You don't hafta do that."

"What?" He'd never not wanted to know what had happened before.

"You don't hafta tell me."

"You don't want to know?"

"Nah, it ain't that."

"Afraid of what you might hear?" she asked softly, rocking a little against him.

"No." His hips stilled and he met her eyes. "I remember this time."

"What?"

"I was there this time. It wasn't me drivin' the train, but I was there. Him and me. Together."

She sucked in a breath. "Together? The whole time?"

"The whole time."

He'd damn near broken his arm in the shower when they slipped and fell after getting too wild in the small, confined space. Later, she'd smashed him up against the dresser when he'd been too rough with her, slamming into her with the full weight of his metal-laced body.

She'd thrown him off easily. And then flown over to him and pinned him before letting him flip her over and take her like he wanted. No limits. Nothing held back.

His eyes wandered to the ceiling. Hers followed.

"Damn, baby." His chuckle was low and dirty.

"Just setting boundaries, sugar."

"You liked it." There was a touch of awe in his voice and a little surprise, too.

"I did. So did you." She kissed him softly. "I've always wanted it all. Now I can give us both what we need."

"Balance," he rumbled.

She nodded.

They'd finally found equilibrium between his powers and hers. Logan and Marie had settled things the night he'd forgiven her. That newfound trust had paved the way for the Wolverine to find his true balance with the Rogue. He'd always known she was much stronger than even the man knew.

He'd needed to know all of her.

To finally set loose the full measure of wildness inside of him and trust her to be strong enough to weather it.

She had.

She was glorious.

It was the last time she'd see him fight on this trip. They didn't need it anymore to open the door to their wilder selves. They were joined. The rings were merely a formality now. Last night had sealed them for all time.

Equals.

Mates.

* * *

Up next: **The Call**. She was young and ripe and ready, everything nature had bred men to desire for millenia. He heard the call clearly, and the urge to keep her locked to him was overwhelming...


	44. The Call

That night found them back in the hot springs, soaking away the lingering aches and sharing a glass of good scotch between them as the stars winked overhead. The sounds of the night surrounded them. For a while they just listened to the drone of insects and the creak of wind in the tall pines.

It was Logan who finally broke the silence. He'd been thinking a lot about what had happened last night. Mostly he'd been thinking about being able to remember it the morning after.

"Y'know, I think we were together once."

"Who was?"

"Me and Wolverine. I think we were together. In the beginning, I mean."

"Like one consciousness?"

"Yeah."

"You have memories of that?"

"No. Not memories, really. Little flashes, sometimes. More like a feelin' than a memory."

She nodded but said nothing, wanting to encourage the uncharacteristically open flow of words.

"I think maybe what happened in the lab split us."

"Oh, sugar…"

He continued as if she hadn't spoken.

"Made the man hide and the Wolverine come out to protect him."

"I'm so glad he did."

"I'm weaker than he is." It was hard to say. Terrifying. But he felt safe with her now. Even with this.

Logan was surprised when she smiled.

"I don't think so. I think you have different strengths. You needed him, that's true."

"Hmph."

"But he needs you, too. So do I. I love both of you. All of you. All of him."

He allowed her to pull him into her arms and settled against her, his back to her chest this time, head lolling on her shoulder while her hand lightly stroked the hair on his belly. Her touch was soothing. The warmth of the water sunk into his bones, relaxing him.

"Thanks, kid."

"For what?"

"For callin' out to me in that bar that night. For climbin' in my trailer. For lettin' me go when I needed it and for lettin' me back in after all the shit I did to ya. For takin' a chance on me."

"Back atcha, sugar." Her words were light but he could smell the tang of her tears. She was deeply moved. She shifted and whispered against his ear, "Thanks, cowboy."

"For what, darlin'?"

He needed to hear the words as much as she needed to say them.

"For loving me," she said simply. "Even when I was untouchable on the inside. For forgiving me. For chasing me, even when it hurt you. For saving me. For saving _us_. For letting me see all of you." She sighed and he settled back into her. "You're beautiful to me."

He was moved, too.

"I dunno if it's that, baby. I think maybe when it comes down to it, we're just better together than we are apart."

"Yeah."

That was another thing he loved about her. She didn't have to make everything a Big Conversation. He could feel her trembling against him though, and took her hands in his before he sank back into her embrace.

The silence stretched out again, easy and soft. A coyote howled in the distance followed by the yipping of little pups. It set his mind on a different track.

"Kid?"

"Yeah?"

"Where you wanna get married?"

He felt her huff in amusement against his neck. "You in a hurry all of a sudden?"

"Nah. Not really. Just thinkin' aloud mostly."

"Mostly?"

She'd caught him out a little. He did feel a little more now like he wanted it to happen sooner rather than later.

"Yeah. Mostly. I was thinkin' maybe after we leave Westchester in the fall but before we get to the cabin. The pass closes in October."

"Oh yeah?"

"I was thinkin' you might want my name, first."

"First?"

She felt a little giddy and a lot shaken. They were gaining momentum.

"Before you and me get cozy on a blanket with that Blue Jay feather."

Before he gave her a baby.

Now the warm spice of joy filtered into her scent.

"Did you just propose to me?"

"No. I did that last night. I can't offer you anythin' more than that. You got it all now, kid. Everythin'. Whatcha do with it now is up to you."

He understood now what she'd meant about a special, unbreakable bond being formed when he let her see all of him. What he hadn't realized was that he'd feel the bond, too. Deep and wide and unshakable. More durable even than the remarkable metal that covered his bones, and a thousand times more precious. She'd given every bit of herself into his keeping as they set fire to the night.

He had all of her now, too.

"No, it's up to _us_. Unless you didn't hear my answer?"

"I could stand to hear it again."

"I don't have any romantic words."

"Don't matter to me. Don't need 'em. Just the truth, straight up. No chaser."

All he needed was her.

"Yes," she said plainly.

"Say it again."

"All of you and all of me. Always. Throughout all time." He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her wet fingertips. "The good and the bad, sugar. Blood, pain, peace, tears, joy, heartbreak-"

"Passion. Rage. Desire. Laughter."

"Say it again."

He chuckled.

"So…. that's the vows written, huh? How 'bout the venue? Anchorage? Banff? New York?"

"Not Westchester."

"No?"

"I love them, but it's private. We're private people. I was thinking maybe just you and me?"

He nodded, no more inclined to share that part of themselves than she was.

"I'm sure Jubes'll forgive me for not forcing her to wear a crappy bridesmaid dress."

"Heh."

"She'll probably be pissed about missing out on the legitimate chance for a new pair of killer shoes, though."

Logan snorted. "That's Gumbo's problem."

Marie giggled. "True enough."

"So….Niagara Falls?"

"Niagara Falls?"

"It was on the pinboard in your old room at the school. A dot on the string from Meridian to Anchorage."

"I can't believe you remember that."

He just smiled.

"Vegas?"

That made her laugh.

"Graceland?"

Now he was chuckling too.

"Laughlin City?"

She shook her head.

"Japan?"

"No. I'll take you someday, but I don't wanna do it there. Too many old memories. It should be somewhere that's just for us."

Under the water, his fingertips stroked along her tattoo unconsciously. Japanese characters telling a story she hadn't yet shared.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something a little weird?"

"Sure, kid. Anythin'."

"I'm not really sure I feel like I need someone to officiate. I don't mind if you want that, but no words someone else says is gonna make me feel more married to you than I already do after last night."

He thought that over a while and realized she was right. "I feel it too," his voice was husky now, his throat thick with emotion. He'd had a simple traditional wedding with Mariko, and looking back, it hadn't really made him feel any differently about her. He'd been happy she was at his side, willing to join her life to his, but he'd also felt discomfort. He hadn't liked the clothes or the pictures or the feeling of being on display. Or the notion that being married somehow changed him. He'd liked wearing the ring, though.

"I think we should file the papers somewhere to make it official… but I was sorta thinking maybe if we did that we could just exchange the rings when we're ready? When it's right. We're not planners. I think we'll just know."

"Like maybe passin' that spot on the road where you sassed me?" That was the first place that had come to his mind, but he'd dismissed it. That place was for them alone. He couldn't see dragging a priest up there, but if it was just the two of them…. that seemed fitting.

On the road where it all began.

Wild and free and answering to no laws but their own.

The Wolverine approved.

"Yes. Or even just on a night like this, sharin' our hearts and soakin' under the stars."

"I like that."

"Me too."

"You sure you don't wanna do the whole big white dress thing?"

"Sugar, you know me better than anyone. Have I ever seemed like the big white dress kinda girl to you?"

"Nope."

"I was sort of thinking maybe my green dress with the boots you like so much and your cowboy hat?"

"Mmm…" God, that was getting to him. She was going to feel how much any minute now.

"I could definitely go for new sexy lingerie underneath, though."

"Me, too. Especially if you keep the hat on."

"Yeah?"

"Hell yeah. And nothin' white."

"No?"

"Nope. Green. That bright one that matches your eyes. Somethin' lacy. I like seein' your dark hair under."

"You're on, as long as you wear the tags and nothing else."

"Deal."

**~ooOoo~**

They stopped for gas just outside of Fairbanks. While Logan filled the truck and aired up a low tire, Marie went in search of snacks. She'd slowly won him over to her way of traveling. A snack and a drink did make the road just roll on easier. Logan preferred hot black coffee and more substantial snacks. Beef jerky. Cashews. Granola. Dark chocolate. They both liked pretzels and jelly bellies. Marie had a weakness for Cheetos, Oreos, Heath bars and sweet vanilla lattes.

Logan was standing by the truck as she returned and felt his chest warm as she reached for him with those little wiggling fingers. He opened the door for her and they shared a long, lingering kiss. She couldn't keep her hands off him. When she shoved her hands in his back pockets and pulled his hips to hers, his only response was to growl playfully and nip at her canted throat.

"Mmm….. You taste nice." He'd had the last of the wintergreen Lifesavers a few miles back.

"Heh. Spark in the dark, baby."

They'd both had fun testing that theory. It made their wandering kisses tingle pleasantly as well.

"You'll never guess what I found." She held up a plastic sack.

"I hope it ain't more of those weird lemon Oreos. That shit ain't right."

She giggled. Logan was an Oreo purist.

"Nope. But after I found it, I thought you might wanna kick off early…."

That was Marie-code for ice cream and sex. Another of the little rituals they'd created as the weeks turned into months. To date, the standout favorite had been an amaretto ice cream with a ribbon of marzipan. Not so much for the flavor, but for what had come after.

"What flavor this time?"

Grinning, she brandished the carton at him. "Ginger!"

"Hot damn." His favorite.

"Can you believe that? Way the hell up here? What are the odds? Maybe I should go back for a lotto ticket."

"Heh. Gimme…." She shook her head and snatched the carton back out of his reach.

"Hands off, cowboy."

The look in his eyes changed. "You gonna throw down…. or feed me while I drive?"

"Maybe….. Or maybe we should save it to enjoy with all our senses at that little motel we passed a few miles back."

"All our senses?" His brow arched at her. "How the fuck do you enjoy ice cream with your ears, kid?" Marie noticed he might be teasing, but when they'd pulled out, he turned the truck back the way they came and not north toward Fairbanks.

"I dunno, sugar. Last time I sure enjoyed the hell outta the way you yelped when I put ice cream on your-"

"Watch it, darlin'."

Her eyes twinkled.

"Oh, I intend to."

**~ooOoo~**

Logan was reclined against the pillows, hooded eyes taking in the sweep of her breasts against his chest with frank appreciation as she moved against him. Sometimes he just watched her face, but there was a part of this for him that was all animal, all carnal. Physical.

"Turn around, baby. I wanna see your ass."

Marie slowed, but didn't stop riding him. Her eyebrow went up instead. She did a good impression of him. So far tonight, they'd been through the ice cream, her favorite position, and then his.

"You like that, sugar?"

"Damn straight." His strong hands stilled her hips. "You're deprivin' me here, darlin'. So get movin', huh?"

He knew she liked it when he told her what to do. He thought it wasn't so much because she had a bit of a submissive streak in bed as much as it was she really liked knowing what turned him on. His desires uncensored. He supposed that was fair. He liked knowing what lit her flame, too.

"Like this?" she teased, rocking her hips against him.

He swatted her sharply and enjoyed her playful yipe. He knew her game. She was deliberately willful because she was hoping for a certain response, and he had no problem giving it to her.

"Nope," his smile invited more disobedience.

"So you like the view from the back?"

An amused chuckle rumbled in his chest. "I'm a simple guy, kid. Tits and ass pretty much do it for me." It was an oversimplification, to be sure. He actually had quite a varied and surprisingly sophisticated sexual palate after all these years. There was little he hadn't done.

She giggled and slid down his body to take him in her mouth for a quick suck before she knelt up and kissed him so he could share the taste. She turned around, settling herself over his hips and looked at him over her shoulder.

"Mmm….we taste good together."

"Christ, I love that." She followed her baser instincts in bed. At first it embarrassed her, but once he got it through her head that seeing her enjoy him in a purely physical way made him hot as hell, she'd been much more at ease with that part of her sexuality. He was glad he could give her that. She'd been struggling with that for a long time.

Logan put a thumb at the base of his cock and pushed it upwards in invitation, helping her to find the right angle as she put her hands on his thighs and sank down.

"God!"

"Mmph!"

"So good, sugar."

He sat up a little, sweeping his hand down her back, a sensual stroke from nape to tailbone. She was sensitive there and squirmed in a way that felt good for them both. "It ain't just tits and ass, baby. I love ya like this. All sensual and just enjoyin' it. You gotta lotta hair." He brushed it to the side to see the naked skin of her back. "It's big and a little wild. I love it when it gets a little crazy, a little sweaty. Lets me know I got the job done real good."

"Yes. More…"

"You gotta slender neck." He circled it with his fingers and she shuddered at the implied overtones there, but neither of them were in the mood for those games tonight. It was slower, more sensual. Easy, and straddling the line between playful and raw. "And a beautiful back. Love your hips, too." He settled his hands on them, caressing her languidly. "You fit me real good."

"I love the feel of your hands on me."

"Grrr…." Logan bent forward and licked her; skimming his mouth up her spine and then nipping that shivery spot on her neck. She tasted like Marie and sweet ginger.

"Your mouth, too…."

"You taste real good, baby."

"Like ice cream?" They were both sticky, their bodies tacky with the lingering drips and smears from their earlier game.

"Like mine."

Her eyes flashed green fire at him over her shoulder. Golden eyes gleamed back, a little wild. A little out of control. As she moved, he caught little glimpses of the edge of her tattoo. He traced it with his fingers, from breast to hip.

His hands covered her breasts, using them to hold him tightly against his chest before he let her go with a soft growl of appreciation as he lay back against the pillows and took in the view. The elegant line of her neck. The milky white skin and the way her strong muscles danced beneath it as she moved. The way she tipped her head back and the dark silky fall of her hair, tickling his skin. The fire in her eyes as they met his over her shoulder. The flare of her hips and the swell of her buttocks that seemed to telegraph a primal message that went straight from his eyes to his cock.

Fertile.

She was young and ripe and ready, everything nature had bred men to desire for millenia. It was coded into his DNA and he was wilder and more in tune with that primal side than most. He heard the call clearly and the urge to keep her locked to him was overwhelming.

Her body was strong and lithe. She moved on him gracefully, with confidence and a fluid motion that got to him so damned good.

"This what you wanted, sugar?"

"Yeah," he said simply, distracted by the sight of her.

"Good. You look all you want, cowboy. I love your eyes on me." Marie would have blushed. The Rogue reveled in it. She moved with purpose, to entice and enflame.

It worked.

It was graphic. A hardcore image; her body accepting his, over and over again. The taboo sight of the cleft between her cheeks. Logan touched her there without hesitation. They both liked it and he had none of the modern notions of propriety. He was quite without any reservations when it came to satisfying all of their carnal appetites.

His hands settled on the swell of her hips. Not to guide her, just to stroke over the supple flesh and watch it shake and jiggle with the force of the impact. It drew a gasp from her and a growl from him.

"Touch yourself."

He was not asking.

"Tell me how."

"Nipples first." His fingers caressed her back and hips in a continuous, sensuous motion. "I remember when I first saw 'em. Small and pink and hard. Standin' up for me."

"Every part of me wants your touch. Every bit."

"Every bit?" his voice was husky, dirty and low.

"Every. Bit."

"Do it then. Show me."

"Mmm….. yes…." She slid her hand down her flat belly and between her legs, touching herself first and then reaching below to caress his heavy scrotum. He really liked that. He planted his feet and thrust up under her. "Oh!"

"Umph!"

"Yes, sugar. More like that… more!"

"Yeah, baby. Yeah! C'mon!"

He wrapped his fist in her hair and pulled, taking in the whole picture now. Absorbing the sight of her lost in wanting him. She rode him uninhibitedly to a thunderous orgasm, her head falling back and her throaty cry of pleasure loud in his ears.

"Logan!"

God, he loved hearing her say his name like that.

She slumped beside him on the bed and he wasted no time in splaying her quivering legs apart and shoving in hard. "Ummph!"

"Mmm… yes. Now you, sugar… now you. I want to feel you use me to get off."

His head came up, eyes as wild as she'd ever seen them. "GRRRR!"

"Yes, sugar. Yes!"

"GRRRRRRRR!" It was shockingly intense. A scalding rush of liquid pleasure.

He collapsed onto her afterwards, knowing she liked his weight pressing her down. She liked feeling him, sweaty and breathing hard, heart slamming against hers.

Her legs were still shaking. He could feel the aftershocks of her orgasm squeezing him. He didn't roll off and he didn't pull out. Instead he flexed himself inside her and shoved in a little deeper, smiling as she wrapped her arms and legs around him.

"Wow."

Logan chuckled at her breathless tone.

"Damn good one."

"I'd give you a standing ovation if my legs still worked, sugar."

"Heh."

He still made no move to pull out. He brought her hands up instead, pinning them over her head and kissing her hard. Dipping his head to nip and suck at her breast, he bit her sharply and then lifted his chin, a wide dirty grin on his face.

"You wanna go again, cowboy?"

She could tell he definitely wasn't finished.

"Yeah. You?"

He didn't really wait for an answer. He'd already begun moving.

"Mmm-hmm…."

"Heh. Good." This time it was slower. Softer and more sensual.

"I'm all sticky."

"How ya feel about gettin' a little more sticky?" Logan's hand moved from where he had a proprietary grip on her hip to brush his thumb over the stark black lines of her tattoo, so bold against her milky skin. He lingered over the red Japanese characters marking the bottom of each exotic string.

"Yes. Do it." She writhed sensuously, eyes dark and wanting. Arching her body and forcing him deeper. "I want you all over me. I love that so much…please, sugar. I want it… I want you… "

"Unnngh! God. Love that, baby."

"I love to see it. Love to watch you touch yourself."

"Y'like that?"

He knew she did. She asked for that a lot.

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"How?"

"Dirty. Honest."

"I love to see it when you pull out, all wet with me. Shining in the firelight…

"Say it, Marie."

"Love to see you take that thick cock in your hand..."

"More!"

"Love to see how rough you are with yourself. So different from how I touch you."

"Umph!" He thrust hard. It was more than the words themselves. It was the fire in her eyes and the honesty in her scent that inflamed him.

"I love it! Love to see you come. It turns me on so much! I love to see it. To feel it. Hot and slippery all over me..."

"Grrr….." He pulled out and knelt over her, stroking rough and fast. He wanted to make it last but the current had him now, a firm grip propelling him on. Faster and harder and just _more_. "Fuck!"

"Yes, sugar. Yes! Come on! I want it! You always come so much! So thick and sweet. I want to taste it after…. feel you on me and in me… just you. Only you!"

"Unnnnh! Fuck!" No more words now, just wild noises deep in his chest.

She wasn't passive. Wasn't still. Her legs were open, bracketing his knees and she undulated, rocking her hips. Showing him with her scent and her voice and her body that she wanted it as much as he did.

He was close but not so far gone that he missed her lifting her head so she could see better.

"Come on, sugar… please! I need you so much!"

"Unnggggh! Ungh!" His body shuddered and convulsed, pulsing in his fist as he roared.

The first two shots covered her from pubis to breast. He slid through his fist and thick pearly stripes fell across the bold lines of her tattoo. "Umph!" Just a little bit more now. He directed the last across her dark hair, grunting in frank appreciation at the crude, erotic sight of his come on her small, soft body. On her breasts and belly and between her legs. Ribbons of starlight.

"Mmmm…!" Keeping her eyes on his face, she gathered a droplet from her breast and rubbed it between her fingers before tasting him with a shy smile.

"Fuck!"

Logan sat back on his heels, panting.

"Thank you so much, sugar." The sincerity in her words rocked him back even now. "I love you. I love you all over me." Her face changed. It was more than just come. More than just pleasure and intimacy. It was bigger than that now. "The essence of life," she whispered softly, heart full of the future.

Nodding, he leaned in and licked the salty underside of her breast, catching the white droplet pearling there just over her heart and then braced himself above her. He lowered his head and shared his taste in a deep kiss.

Pulling back, he held her eyes for a moment before letting his gaze drift lower.

"I love seein' ya like this."

"Like this?" Covered in him. "Say it, sugar."

"Like the other half of me."

The stark honesty in his words touched her deeply. She was expecting different words. No less profound, but cruder. More raw. The tenderness in his voice brought tears to her eyes.

"Oh…" Her full red lips curved up in a private smile.

"I love seein' my come on you too." He sat back to enjoy the sight before slowly rubbing it into her skin. "Love smellin' us like this all night long."

"I do too. Sex and passion and love." He lay down next to her on the bed but arranged her on her back so he could still keep his hand on her tattoo. Tracing the stark lines with his fingertips. "What's it smell like to you?"

"Home," he breathed, touching his forehead to hers.

The light of the fire played across her skin, orange and warm. Little shadows flirted with her body, kissing the curve of her throat, the soft upthrust of her nipple and dancing in the hollows of her hips.

He anchored one in his strong grip, running his thumb over the blood red characters.

"Tell me about this," he said softly. "We're ready now."

He was right.

It was time.

* * *

Up next: **The Tattoo**. The Wolverine gets his answers. The wheel comes full circle. The long road ends...


	45. The Tattoo

Marie rolled to her right side so she could look into Logan's face as they spoke quietly in the cozy warmth of the little A-frame. The light from the fire spilled into the bed, hazy and soft.

His palm swept along her skin, following the path of the elegant lines of her tattoo, from just below her left breast to the top of her left hip. He paused there and squeezed lightly, thumb rubbing lazy circles in the hollow of her hipbone.

The three lines were familiar and distinctive. It looked like he'd marked her; three deep cuts bleeding black. Though exquisitely rendered, when he looked at it, it evoked savage feelings of possession; of violence, and blood, and desire.

"You know what that looks like, dontcha?"

It was the mark of the Wolverine.

"Yes," she said simply.

He said nothing.

"Here." She guided his fingertips to the top of the first string. "It's Tibetan calligraphy. An ancient script. I had this done in Lhasa after Storm let me know I was needed back at the school."

He noticed she didn't say, 'back home'. That place hadn't ever been home to either of them. "Mmph."

"I wanted a reminder of my time there that wouldn't fade."

"I know whatcha mean, kid. Sometimes the mark a place leaves on ya inside just ain't enough." He sounded bitter.

"Wishing for a little ink of your own, sugar?"

"Yeah." He sighed softly, his stoic face unreadable. "Tried it a couple of times over the years. Never lasts more'n a few hours."

"Where?"

"Here." He touched his chest - just over his heart - and then to his shoulder and bicep. "N'here."

Her fingers followed the path his had taken, touching his wide chest and following the striation in the heavy muscles of his shoulder and down along his arm. She let her fingers trail over his forearm, too. Not because he had, but because she loved to touch him there, to feel his strength and the unique musculature. Flesh and bone encasing adamantium blades.

"Mmm...." She approved, both of his body and of his desire to mark it. "Tell me more?"

"Not a lot to tell, really." He shrugged. "They were just traditional Japanese designs, mostly. Elements of Honshu's Great Wave. And her name."

His daughter.

Marie understood.

"That's beautiful."

She could appreciate why a man who'd lost most of his memories might want to have a tangible reminder of the pieces of his journey that touched him the most.

"Hmph." He shrugged and grunted noncommittally. " _This_ is beautiful." His fingers swept along the string of black marking her creamy skin like a brand.

"It's a prayer."

"A prayer?" That surprised him. She was spiritual, but not religious.

"Sort of. A blend of ideas I wanted to keep with me for always." She guided his fingers down the first string.

"S'like silk," he murmured at the feel of her under his hand. He waited for her to gather her thoughts.

After a time, she spoke, tracing his fingers down the line of script as she did.

"Life is suffering. We're the cause of our own hurt. Ownership, possession, is the root of all suffering. If you let it go, it no longer has the power to cause pain."

Logan sucked in a sharp breath. "Jesus." It applied to him - to their relationship - but it was bigger than that, too. It was also her desire to touch and be touched. To be loved. To be normal. To be free.

She nodded, continuing on. "You're then free to appreciate the beauty of it in a different way."

_Even if it's not yours._

She didn't need to say the words for them both to hear them.

Logan leaned in and kissed the final scroll at the bottom of the first string of script. "I'm sorry, kid," he whispered against her skin.

"I'm not." His eyes flicked up to hers. "We wouldn't be here, now, otherwise." She brought his hand up to the top of the second string.

"This is the first universal law. Nothing in the universe is lost. Nothing," she repeated softly, and he felt his eyes sting. "Even when it's gone from us, it's never really lost." His memories. His presence from her life in the hard years following the lily pond. Her ability to touch.

"Baby..."

She touched her finger to his lips. "Energy and matter are fluid. We are the wind that rages and the snow that falls. We're born. We die. Our bodies become the soil and nourish new life. We are all the same thing, created from same energy." Her eyes grew soft. "When we hurt something around us, we hurt ourselves. When we kill something, we kill ourselves."

That was a painful blow.

And he could understand now why she put a knife to her skin the night she eviscerated him on the floor of that motel in Westchester.

He wet his fingers in his mouth and softly traced the faded line on her arm. Elbow to wrist. His touch lingered over the two swallows, one on each side of the faded pink scar. He wondered why she'd done that.

"We're not together here." His thumb covered the pair of small birds that represented the two of them. "Together but apart, huh?"

She nodded, brushing a tear from her face. "I wasn't worthy then. I'm still not, but I'm trying now, sugar, with everything I've got in me. I'm trying."

"Shh...." He kissed her then because he couldn't bear to hear another word.

When they drew apart with moist lips and wet eyes, Marie put his fingers on the top of the last string.

"This is peace. A reminder that if we are enlightened, the capacity for peace is within all of us. It isn't external or something we _find_. It exists when we embrace who and what we are, and our place in the world. Even the hard, ugly things about us that make us ashamed and afraid. If we don't struggle, we don't grow."

"When you know yourself, you know peace." It was somewhere between a question and a benediction.

"Yes."

He knew she'd had this tattoo done before she could control her skin. That she'd grown so much, embraced so much pain to be comfortable within herself moved him deeply. She had accepted that pain; the sorrow of being untouchable, the confusion and shame about the kind of intimacy she craved, the feelings of alienation and despair when he'd asked her to cut him free. And that she could do all that in a raging sea of foreign minds was astounding.

"I get it now."

"Get what?"

"When you said you weren't afraid of the Phoenix. That _you_ were stronger. You. The vessel. I get it now."

Pleasure lit her face but then faded.

"Imagine what she could have been if Charles had let her embrace all of it instead of caging it with blocks and barriers? Maybe you two'd have-"

"Hey, none of that. I'm your good guy. Not hers."

That made her eyes glow.

"You are."

He'd meant it as a joke to lighten the mood and chase the tears from her eyes, but he was surprised to realize that he believed it now. Somewhere along the way it had become ingrained in him. Maybe he'd embraced a few things about himself along the way, too.

Had to be her doing.

He wasn't introspective by nature. He'd spent decades running from anything stronger than he was, especially if it was good. He just didn't know how to internalize that. Or at least he hadn't until she'd come along and kicked his ass good. She didn't take any shit off anyone. Thinking back, she never really had, even when she was just that scrawny girl with fierce, hungry eyes and full red lips bitching him out on a snowy road.

She didn't let him take any shit either, even from himself.

He smiled at her.

"Tell me about this." He bent and brushed his mouth over the three red Japanese characters, one at the bottom of each string of black script. "Looks like blood, baby."

"I felt like I was bleeding when I got them," she said quietly.

Marie drew his knuckles down the three lines, the gesture clear.

"Darlin'-"

"I didn't mean for these to look like his mark. At least not consciously. Not at first. Years later, somewhere along the line, I changed my mind. I think some part of me must have known what I was doing... or why not two lines or four or five?"

Logan nodded. It had to be more than coincidence. "You think it was me?"

"What?"

"The me in your head."

"Not you. Wolverine, maybe. But not you." She shrugged lightly. "I've always been his. You let me choose. That's why it works now."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, sugar. I know you're ashamed of him sometimes. I also know you think he's stronger," she ignored the warning look on his face. She was walking where even angels feared to tread, but he needed to hear it. "But you were the one strong enough to let it be my choice. He kept me alive to make it. You see? I need you both. It wouldn't work without both of you."

His eyes flashed gold at her and then slid toward hazel as he bent his head and put his teeth on her neck, growling softly. "Grrr....."

She canted her neck and arched, letting her head fall back in supplication. "Yes..."

"GRRR!"

The sting of his teeth made her shiver. It wasn't a nip. It was wild and sharp. A claiming. He wanted her deference and he got it, soothed by the way her body melted into his when she did so. Her scent said she liked it just as much.

"Mmm...."

"Talk, baby."

"T-talk?"

Logan chuckled at her slightly addled expression. He loved that he could do that to her even now after all they'd done.

"Yeah. I wanna know about the rest." He touched the bold red characters. They were blocky and stylized. Masculine. The artist's mark. A man. He could tell by the shape of the strokes. "I can read 'em."

"You never told me that."

"Tellin' you now." He touched the first one. "Wild." His fingers drifted to the second. "Passion." His dropped his head and licked the third. "Eternity."

"I had them done after Carol."

That had his head snapping up.

"What? How?" How the hell did a girl with invulnerable skin get a tattoo?

"Do you remember Jimmy?"

"Jimmy?"

"The boy they used to manufacture the Cure?"

"Yeah. Good kid. Met him a couplea times at the school. Steered clear mostly, though." He couldn't look at the kid and not think about how Jean's lifeless body had felt in his arms.

"I asked him to go with me. He held my hand. It was Jubes' idea."

Logan whistled softly. "Goddamn."

"That's Jubes for ya. Untold depths." She smiled.

Logan smiled too, thinking of the afternoon in the garage when Jubilee defended him to a pack of teenage she-wolves and shared a joint with him afterwards.

Untold depths, indeed.

"You got real lucky there, kid."

She held his eyes pointedly. "We both did." Jubilee had been a good friend to them both.

"Yeah," he allowed, his eyes shining with laughter. "But she still makes my knuckles itch."

"Logan!"

"Heh. What?"

She swatted him. "It was a good idea that she had, but it only worked that once. My skin adapted after the first time. Hank warned me that was likely be the case, so I probably only had one shot at it. I picked this." Her face was thoughtful as she put his fingertips on the Japanese characters. "Sometimes I think I'd have more ink if I could." She sighed. "But then again, I kind of like it how it is right now."

"Me too." His mouth was back, kissing each of the red characters. "Tell me about these," he encouraged against alabaster skin that carried his most intimate scent.

"I had these done in the city. You can find anything in New York."

Logan nodded. She was not wrong.

"I found a Japanese tattoo artist. I went alone to see him first. We talked a long time. I think he was surprised someone who looked like me could speak his language so well." She threaded her fingers in his hair and stroked lightly. "Thanks for that."

"You bet." He studied the bold crimson marks. "So what'd you talk about?"

"You."

"What?"

"I told him about you. About the Wolverine. About what you both meant to me. About the train and the torch and about how you'd saved me and about the kind of man you were. I asked him to put that on my skin."

Logan sucked in a deep breath. "This ain't the character for Wolverine."

"I know."

"It says 'wild'."

"Yes. That's the essence of what you are to me. Wild and fierce and free and strong and good and all the things I wished I was. You're the yardstick I measure everyone else against, sugar. The best one. The most beautiful and brightest parts in me."

"That's what you see?" His voice was soft. Incredulous. It was hard to get the words past the lump in his throat.

She nodded. "I didn't want to use your name. I ran with a rough crowd. Did bad things to bad people in places most of the world will never even know about. I didn't ever want anyone to get a hold of me and to know that the way to hurt me was to hurt you. I've caused you enough pain. I couldn't bear causing you more. I wanted your name on me but it wasn't safe. Not for you."

"Mmph." He grunted because that time no words would come.

Marie touched the second mark. "After I told him about you, I told him about me. About the Rogue. About hitchin' to Canada. About hiding in your truck. About Bali and Tibet and Westchester. I asked him to choose a character for me, too. Like how he did for you."

"Passion," he said, touching the mark reverently. It fit.

She nodded again.

"Then I told him about us. About loving you. About letting you go and finding you again. About hurting you." There were tears on her face now. "About hurting myself." Her fingers traced the scar on her arm. "And then I told him about Carol and Patch and how even though I'd done unspeakable things to you, you still saved me."

"You go, I go. Package deal, kid." He kissed her. Not tenderly. With passion and emotion.

Logan touched the last mark. "Eternity," he breathed.

"Yes."

"It was time. I'd finally stopped running and started leaning into things. Accepting the bad and the good. Accepting the truth. Accepting what you and I have both known since Laughlin City. What we'd both been scared of since the beginning." Her voice grew softer. "After what I did, I didn't think I'd ever have the chance to tell you any of that, but it didn't change the truth. Nothing could. Nothing _will_."

She waited.

"Jesus." His fingertips moved from mark to mark, like following lighthouses in the dark. "It's a vow," he breathed, his eyes shining wetly.

"Yes. A vow. A prayer. The deepest truth I've ever known.... and the most desperate longing of my heart."

"Wolverine and Rogue. Forever."

That's what it said.

"Yes."

That truth rocked him back. Even now he almost couldn't wrap his mind around the enormity of what she'd done.

"All this time?"

_That's_ where she'd been coming from?

Wolverine and Rogue. Forever.

Even when they'd fought.... Even when they'd hurt and bled and raged.... Even when they'd made up and made love. Even when she'd given him all of herself and accepted he might never be able to do the same. Even _then_?

He was deeply, profoundly moved.

"All this time," she affirmed, kissing his knuckles lightly before fitting her head under his chin and sighing as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly.

She had accepted all of herself and all of him.

He could do no less.

Wolverine and Rogue. Forever.

The last of the past fell away and the future opened up before them, a long road to be walked in a good way.

Together.

* * *

Up next: **The Cr** **anes**. Just a little taste of what comes after... (I've never written an epilogue before, but the muses were pretty insistent this time!)


	46. The Cranes

"Brrr!"

"Heh. It ain't that bad, darlin'."

"Not that bad? There's frost on the windows! It's damned cold!"

"Cold? I thought you were tough, kid."

"Even steel magnolias freeze, sugar."

He snorted. "So you're a delicate flower now?"

"You bet." She winked at him and he rolled his eyes.

"Ya know, I might be more inclined to believe that if you weren't flyin' a truck with a season's worth of provisions in the back when you said it."

Logan had welded four anchor points to the truck's frame before they left Westchester, just in case. Now he was glad he had. He was steadying the 'tow' chains while Marie provided the lift. It wasn't pretty, but it worked.

"Pfff!" She giggled. One did not argue the truth with the Wolverine.

Winter had come early. They'd left Westchester the last week of September and an unseasonably heavy snow had delayed them again an hour south of Banff. An avalanche had left the road impassable for several miles and while the idea of holeing up in a motel room with Marie for a few days sounded good, the idea of getting to the cabin sooner rather than later sounded better.

"You doin' okay?"

"Walk in the park."

"Mmph." Logan wasn't keen on the idea of her lifting the truck now that she'd had her IUD removed. Hank had told them that it often takes several months for a woman's fertility to return but that in Marie's case, her mutation was likely to heal any lingering damage immediately. It could be a matter of weeks for her.

Despite a flurry of lovemaking on their trip north in the wake of the freedom they had without the school's residents being in such close proximity, he knew she wasn't pregnant. Not yet. His nose didn't lie.

"This is crazy. I can't even guess where the road is anymore and my fingers are freezing!"

"Don't look for the road. Look for the mile markers. See the next one up there?"

"Yep. Got it."

"Set us down about ten feet to the left and I'll take it from there. I'll drive and you can blast the heat and curl up next to me."

"Sounds good."

The truck had a good heater and Logan always ran hot, but he'd be okay if he stripped off a few layers first. Lost the jackets and the flannel and just kept his thermal undershirt.

Marie was inside the cab and out of the icy wind before Logan had finished unhooking the chains. He took a moment to stop at the side of the truck, running his thumb over the finger-shaped ripples in the metal.

God, that had been a good night.

There was a set in the driver's side door now, too, and three accompanying cuts in the upholstery. If this old truck could talk, it would write the dirtiest novel ever written and make a killing. The thought amused him.

Shucking out of his leather jacket and the denim one underneath, Logan tossed them over to Marie to use. His flannel followed. When he looked up, her eyes were on him.

"Don't stop now. I'm enjoying the show."

"Heh. Dirty girl." He climbed in the truck and started it, turning up the heat before pulling her close. She tucked her freezing hands up under his shirt and into his armpits to steal his warmth.

"Mmph!" He shivered. "Damn, baby!"

"I can't help it. You know I'm just a big weenie when it comes to freezing my butt off."

"You sure you wanna do this? It's only gonna get colder. We could always ditch the truck and make a break for it."

"Oh yeah? And go where?" She was curious now.

"Dunno. Pattaya? Macau? Phuket's nice this timea year. Lots of little private islands. We could go be naked beach bums. I could stand to see ya without clothes for the next few months, golden brown all over with a round growin' belly."

"Not for all the tea in China."

"No?"

"I wanna spend the winter naked in the cabin with you. A fire going inside. The wind howling outside. A nest of blankets. Your cowboy hat…." Her eyes sparkled and she touched her neck where he'd bitten her the first night. "You made me a promise. Besides, I'm pretty sure we can find a way to keep warm."

"Heh."

She pulled on his leather jacket. It was her favorite. It wasn't just that it was warmer than the denim one. The weight of it felt good. The scent, too. Leather and smoke over the woodsy scent of Logan's shaving soap and the crisp scent of the outdoors that always clung to it. It smelled a little like wintergreen mints too. They were his favorites and he'd gotten in the habit of carrying a roll on him at the school. Storm was less inclined to tolerate his cigars than Charles had been once upon a time, and he had a bit of an oral fixation. Marie had been delighted to help out there.

Marie wrapped the jacket around herself and snuggled into it, smoothing her hands down the front. Her brows drew together at the crackle of paper as her hands skimmed over the breast pocket. It wasn't the first time she'd heard the distinctive crinkle of paper, but usually her hands sliding over Logan's chest was a prelude to something much more interesting than a bit of wayward paper. Now that she thought about it, she'd heard that little sound dozens of times over the last year.

"What's that, sugar?"

"Couplea old friends," he rumbled cryptically.

"What?"

"Go ahead and look if you wanna." He wanted her to.

He let the truck drift to the side of the road before putting it in park and turning to face her.

Marie opened his coat, her fingers searching the inside left front pocket. She withdrew an envelope and sucked in a slow breath when she realized it was the one she'd given him years ago. Folded from a piece of paper in Tibet the day she'd shorn her hair and renounced the world, wrapping herself in red robes in a city lost in the clouds.

She'd tucked a long lock of her hair inside. He'd kept it all these years?

"You kept this?"

He nodded, taking it from her fingers.

Marie was floored when he carefully lifted the flap and removed the white paper crane she'd folded for him fourteen years ago, on the night he'd stabbed her and she'd taken a piece of him into her keeping for all time. The crane was worn and battered. Spotted with old blackened blood and there were a few little hairs sticking out of it. It took her a minute to realize he must have folded the lock of hair she'd given him inside it.

"This one is Logan," he said softly, putting it in her palm.

"Oh, God…"

"This one is Marie." His fingers slipped back into the envelope and he removed the second one. The little green crane she'd left atop her cloak the night she'd left for Bali. The night he'd asked her to let him go by the lily pond. He put it in her hand next to the first. It looked like it had been touched a thousand times.

"All these years..."

She could barely believe her eyes.

"Yeah. All of 'em. Carried 'em in the pocket over my heart almost every day for the last fourteen years. Not when I was with Mariko. Not then. That didn't seem right to her or you. But I always had 'em close. On me or in my wallet. A talisman, even then. A light in the darkness." His two loyal companions. His only friends.

Marie was overwhelmed. No words would come. Just tears and a shining brightness that seemed to glow in her chest until it filled up every last shadowy place inside her.

"I had 'em in my wallet that first day I ran into you in the garage when your hair was all short and wild. They were in my jacket pocket that night you put me down hard." Logan brushed away her tears. "They were there when I called you that night after Carol..." He kissed her softly. "And still there when the firecracker sent me after ya last year."

Hell, they'd been there every single time he'd put his mouth on Jean. That was a sobering thought. He'd belonged to Marie since the beginning. She knew it. Wolverine knew it. He'd just been too damaged to recognize it and too scared to reach out and take what was his when he finally did.

"Oh, sugar…"

She kissed the tears from his face like she had that night at the lily pond.

They'd both bled for the marks they carried with them. His blood spattered the paper. Her body had bled under the needle. He had cranes. She had a tattoo. They both had a connection that no amount of time or distance could sever.

"It was always you, kid."

"For me too."

That's why it had never felt right with anyone else. It was because none of them were _him_.

"Here, baby…" He took the cranes from her hand, pressed them to his lips out of habit and tucked them safely back into the envelope before sliding it back into his coat and pulling her into his arms.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"That night…. the night I tried to wake you from the nightmare…. the night I gave you the white crane... I went to see you after - when you were sleeping. I wanted to write you a letter, only I didn't know what to say. I guess somehow what I was feeling came out after all. I looked down and realized I'd folded that. I left it for you instead."

"You know what it means?"

"Not then. Not consciously, anyway. There was a lot of you in my head. I was feeling so much that night. Things I was too young to really even understand."

"Yeah."

"But you'd called to me and some part of me knew how to answer."

"I heard." He stroked her hair lightly. "Or he did. Wolverine took that down deep. Dug in and stuck fast when I was still too scared to do anythin' but run."

"You're not running now."

His fingers rubbed small circles over her belly.

"Nope." He smiled down at her. "You know a white crane's a symbol of eternity."

"Yeah?"

"That's a helluva thing to leave behind, darlin'."

She smiled. "You made one hell of an impression, sugar."

"Heh. Back atcha." His hand found hers. "The Japanese have treasured them as a symbol of honor and loyalty for thousands of years."

"That's beautiful." Love and honor and loyalty. She'd been feeling all of that the night she folded the first crane.

"They're strong. Graceful. Beautiful. A majestic bird that mates for life and is extremely loyal to its partner." He touched his forehead to hers. "I guess it just takes some of 'em a little longer to find the way home, kid."

 

* * *

 

**Author's notes** : So? Verdict? After I wrote the hotel scene, both my betas were like, "You know there's no coming back from this, right?" I purposefully wrote Logan and Marie into that position to see if I could write them coming back together in a believable way... and I'm curious to see if you think I managed it!

I wanted to thank everyone for coming along on this long, bumpy ride. I had originally intended this story to be five chapters. That's right. FIVE! The first four (as written) and then the end where they're talking about the tattoo and the cranes. And then I got to thinking, that none of you would get why what was such a big deal unless I wrote all the stuff in between. 150k words later…. we're finally putting this story to bed. Whew! Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts with me along the way!

While I was writing this story, I took several breaks along the way and hammered out half a dozen short stories. Most are one-shots, but some are a few chapters long. They're all over the place; romantic, dark, AU, passion, sexytimes, pornography! lol Let me know which one(s) you'd like to see first. :)

 

_In the pipeline:_

**A Work of Heart  
** Logan comes back from Japan to find a very different Marie than he remembers. Chalk. Ink. Gouache. Watercolor. A young artist reveals a man's heart, one colorful stroke at a time. W/R

**Cry the Moon**  
Logan meets a Cree girl at a bar in Mexico. She wants to make a memory. He wants to forget. Logan/OC, W/R (A "Run" outtake.)

**In Pride's Shadow  
** Monstrous dark things live in the shadows and the Wolverine is the darkest of them all. Marie works behind the bar. A certain cage fighter has caught her eye. AU. Dark. W/R, W/OC

**In Limine**  
At the threshold. On a mission for Xavier, a random meeting between the wildest X-Man and a sharp lawyer with a southern drawl sets fire to the night. AU W/R

**Reflected**  
Logan turns up unexpectedly at Marie's apartment one cold December night. Marie makes a confession. Logan makes a move. W/R

**Designs**  
The sequel to Reflected. Heat…. spice… and a test of endurance. W/R

**Shine Against Me  
** Logan and Marie and talk about pornography… and then things get crazy. 20+ chapters (and counting!)

**Walk the Line  
** Marie comes back after taking the Cure. "She'd always defend him though, even now – powerless and helpless, and they both knew it. It didn't even need saying. The care of this beautiful man was written in her bones." 9 chapters (at least 4 more to go)

_Definitely still certifiable!_


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